All I Remember
by badholt
Summary: Tom Riddle had every reason to hate muggles. Tom Riddle had every reason to crave power. Then, one day, Tom Riddle had a new reason to hate and crave something else.
1. Muddy-Browns and Grassy-Greens

**ALL I REMEMBER**

 _+- Author's Foreword -+_

 ** _WARNING: UK Orphanages in the 1930's were harsh environments, and this content may not be comfortable for everyone_**

 _This story primarily focuses on hurt/comfort, " **puppy love** " scenes. There is a fully-developed plot, but the core of the story is the relationship development between Tom Riddle and an OC._

 _This is **not** a **redemption** story, meaning the goal isn't someone redeeming or stopping Voldemort. It will explore the concept of redemption and have ethical themes, but none of these characters will be strictly "good" or "evil."_

 _I try to be as **historically-accurate** and as true to **canon** as possible. I've researched orphanages, literature, etc. in this time period, so that I might present a realistic setting. If you notice any major inconsistencies, please let me know. After some deliberation, I've decided to only use British English when a British character is speaking. The OC is American to reduce my research time, as well as set up some fun scenes._

* * *

I

 **Muddy-Browns and Grassy-Greens**

* * *

Domino Dewey could _almost_ be forgiven for her unfortunate joke of a name. Yes, she was very odd, very different, very… _unusual_. But, perhaps in this case, different was good.

With an angry huff, Deborah Dewey crossed her arms and glared down at the muddied foyer floor. The floral-printed oven mitts she wore poked out from behind her bent elbows, and her frilly, white apron bunched against her generous bosom.

The front door had been left wide open, and all but one child had fled. Mature and mannerly as always, Deborah's knobbly-kneed niece still stood meekly in the doorway. Her feet were planted firmly on the dirty doormat, which no longer looked the practical solid-grey that it was supposed to.

"BOYS!" Deborah yelled up the stairs, promptly receiving the answer of a few delighted shrieks, "Get down here this instant! What kind of example is this for you to set for your cousin?"

As a series of thumps filtered through the thin slats of the wooden-board ceiling above, Deborah glanced back at her much-too-shy niece. Wispy, brown bangs framed her two big, doey eyes, and her thin lips were currently gathered into a miniature frown. The girl looked to be wracked with guilt, even though Deborah had never known her to break a single rule.

Indeed, for a girl who'd been named so carelessly, Domino was one of the most well-behaved children that Deborah had ever met. She hardly ever made a fuss. She was never impolite, and yet effortlessly clever. And, she had the most irritating habit of befriending virtually anything that breathed. Of course, no-nonsense Deborah had to admit that, perhaps, the bulk of her irritation came from jealousy… How had her goofy, single, American brother-in-law raised such a darling, while she herself had raised three troublesome terrors?

"Aunt Deborah, are you feeling alright?"asked the little girl, her small voice echoing in Deborah's ears, as if Domino were on the other end of a long, dark tunnel.

The air grew stale, and the hallways appeared to warp and swoon as Deborah felt her knees go slack. And just like that, Deborah's world faded to black.

* * *

James Dewey's insides were twisting and turning and contorting themselves into knots. He hoped one day he'd be able to forgive himself, because he knew his brother surely wouldn't.

"But, Uncle Jim, how will my daddy know where I am?" Domino asked with her abominable, nauseating, torture-inducing innocence.

"Your dad will come collect you when he gets back from his trip, Domino," James snapped, his tone coming across much harsher than intended, "These people will take much better care of you in the meantime… We just can't afford another child at home right now with Aunt Deborah sick and the world going the way it is. You understand, don't you?"

Domino shrunk back and nodded bleakly, kicking at the dusty pavement with her shoe, "Yes. I'm sorry, Uncle Jim."

"There's a good girl," he said approvingly, gently patting her back as he led her past the gloomy, ironwrought gates of Wool's Orphanage.

 _This place looks nothing like it did in the paper_ , James thought glumly as he took in the unkempt garden, overgrown fountain, and murky, darkened windows.

Vicious, metal spears lined the high fence that enclosed the small courtyard, and several floors worth of cold, lifeless brick towered overhead. The tall, ominous structure cast a long, dark shadow upon the hapless visitors far below, as if the man and child were walking straight into the gaping maw of a patient predator.

James suppressed a shudder as he pulled Domino down the short, stone walkway and up to a shaded arch, which overlaid two massive, black doors. He rapped twice on one of the thick, paneled doors and grimaced as the heavy thing creaked slowly open.

A tall, willowy, and heavily-freckled young woman peered around the crack in the door. As was the fashion for a modern woman of the thirties, her burnt-orange hair was swept back into a neat bundle of curls and waves, and she wore a prim, collared, button-up dress. After glancing once at James and then twice at young Domino, she propped the door more-widely open and called to a Mrs. Cole.

Heels clacked against hard stone, and soon a stern, middle-aged woman appeared, pulling open the closed second door with one firm thrust. As James took in the woman's sharp, gaunt features and her prematurely-greying hair, he had no doubt that this was the orphanage's matron.

At a loss for words, he avoided the woman's cold stare and gave Domino a light shove towards the door. The girl hugged her small suitcase closer to her chest and stepped forward, whispering a tentative greeting to the two older women.

As was his nervous tendency, James slipped his hat off his head and wrung it about in his hands, his mouth opening and closing mechanically as he searched for something - anything - to say. Finally, when he could find no words and could take no more of the women's accusing stares, James turned on his heel and fled back down the worn, stone path. Moist beads of the morning's chilly fog brushed past his face as he raced through the rusty gate.

He spared not a single glance back as Domino cried out _Uncle Jim_ and the wrought-iron gate slammed definitively shut.

* * *

Strong scents of fresh grass and thick mud mixed together as rebellious weeds poked out of cracks in the wet pavement. Dreary, noontime rain had splattered the cement with puddles, luring worms, bugs, and other wildlife to play in the patchworked pools. Nature was slowly reclaiming the orphanage's cramped courtyard - and it was all the better for the young Tom Riddle.

See, other children were too fragile, too weak to expose themselves to the elements. They'd rather cower inside Wool's Prison than taste sweet freedom in the drizzling rain. Sure, some of the more adventurous orphans would join him outside, but they'd always congregate in their little social circles. They'd chatter away under one of the protective porch awnings or lounge in a safe corner of the yard. Sometimes they'd even chase each other around the stone fountain, though they thankfully never asked Tom to play.

No, Tom didn't need them. They said he was too smart, too quiet, too… _weird_. Dennis had even taken to calling him "circus freak," after Mrs. Cole drank one too many drinks on New Year's Eve and let Tom's story slip.

It was no matter though. Tom had gotten his revenge on Dennis - and his crony, Amy. One day he'd get his revenge on this entire orphanage.

Suddenly, Tom spotted a small flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Jumping to his feet, he crouched low and crept slowly towards the gap between the edge of the fountain and the fence. There, on the ground beneath a clot of tangled vines, slithered the unmistakable form of a small, thin garden snake.

It wove gracefully through the grass, propelling itself forward with spring-like thrusts of its winding, curving muscles. Two yellow bands flanked its pointy face, and its olive-green scales gleamed against the dewy grass.

Tom reached for a stick, intent on poking the creature, so that he could watch it squirm. However, as he snatched up a stick from a deep crack in the pavement, the snake abruptly stopped.

"... wait… musssst ssstay ssstill… can't sssee me…" hissed the snake, its voice a low, raspy whisper.

"Of course I can see you, you stupid snake," Tom spat, though he privately thought that this _talking_ snake must be the smartest animal he'd ever seen.

"It speaks?" replied the snake uncertainly.

Tom snarled, "Of course I speak! I'm not an idiot!"

Two silent seconds passed, and then the snake wound around on itself, turning to leave.

"Hey!" Tom cried out in surprise, "Where do you think you're going? Stop!"

If there was one thing Tom hated, it was being ignored. His whole life seemed to consist of people meeting him and then summarily casting him aside. His own mother had abandoned him here, this place where they tossed all the kids that weren't special.

Fortunately, Tom had discovered his secret power. He _was_ special - his mother had made a mistake! But, of course, that mistake didn't matter anymore, because now Tom could _make_ people stay. Yes, yes, bad things always happened to the fools that displeased him…

Tom squinted his eyes and furrowed his brow as he concentrated on summoning his secret power.

"You soiling your nappy, Tom?" boomed the deep, grating voice of one of Tom's top-ten least-favorite idiots.

"Dennis," Tom growled, clenching his fist tighter around the wet stick in his hand and then spinning around.

"Whatya doin' standing and hissing at the wall, you circus freak?" Dennis asked with a cruel laugh.

"I can show you, if you want. It'll be just like the cave," Tom replied coolly, tacking on a cruel smile of his own.

The cave had been the site of Tom's great triumph over Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson. Two summers ago, the orphanage had taken the children out on their brief, annual, beach holiday. Amidst Amy and Dennis' teasing and taunting, Tom had successfully lured the obnoxious couple into a creepy cave he'd found hidden along the side of a wave-battered cliff. There, in the privacy of this most epic lair, he was finally given the chance to demonstrate his secret power, to show them both who was _really_ in control.

Since the incident, Amy and Dennis had behaved like skittish animals around Tom, never daring to cross him in front of the matron or the teachers at school. Unsupervised at the orphanage, it was another story, of course, but Tom still considered this state of affairs to be a marked improvement to their former bullying.

Amy badmouthed him at every opportunity, but she had taken to avoiding him at all costs. The much-more-daring Dennis had taken the opposite approach, making a habit of following and watching Tom warily, as if at any moment Tom might transform into a monster, turn, and strike. Thankfully, all Tom had to do was mention "the cave," and Dennis would scatter, leaving Tom happily alone.

"Okay, okay, okay!" Dennis stammered in a hurry as he defeatedly held up his hands in a gesture that Tom was sure would serve him well in his likely future career, "I was just… checking on you. Ya were acting even weirder than usual. I'm going..."

Dennis walked away cautiously, not turning his back on Tom once until he'd finally reached the front porch.

Glancing back at the snake, who was now curled up unassumingly in the grass, Tom considered Dennis' claim that he'd truly been "hissing" instead of talking, as well as how surprised the snake had been when Tom first spoke. Perhaps this was yet another use of Tom's secret power…

Gleefully, Tom walked over and squat down in a patch of grass by the brick fence.

Then, he beat the wooden stick against a muddy spot on the ground, hissing commandingly, "Come here, snake! Let us _speak_!"

* * *

Domino felt even more awkward than usual. Everyone kept asking the same questions. What's that accent of yours? What's an American doing in London? Why'd your family leave you?

She had just finished explaining for, perhaps, the fifth time that she'd been visiting her British cousins in Croydon, when Mrs. Cole arrived to usher the crowd of children outside. Pot-bellied Mr. Cole was trying to install a bunk in Domino's new room, and he was having quite the rough time of transporting it with herds of small children ogling about.

"Domin-o, you can come play with us if you like," giggled Amy Bishop as she curled one of her long, golden braids around a stubby finger.

"Okay, thanks," Domino replied simply, though she doubted she could stand much more of her roommate's attention-mongering or needless grandstanding.

Satisfied, Amy and the rest of her gaggle of girls skipped merrily over to one of the better-kept stretches of grass along the courtyard fence. The girls squealed as the humidity hit their hair and sent it into a fit of frizzles.

Domino sighed deeply as she at last enjoyed a moment to herself, a chance to take in and process her new surroundings. Standing beneath the sheltering, brick arch that protruded from the orphanage's front door, Domino surveyed the now-crowded courtyard.

A slight haze blanketed the scene before her, the light London drizzle streaking from sky to earth, like the fuzzy streaks sometimes seen on those fancy, new television sets. As she peered through this rainy interference, she spotted nothing but a blur of miserable, dull colors, as even the orphans were dressed in uniforms of dreary slate-grey. Blotting out the greens of the grass and the dark-reds of the brick, the children currently clustered together along nearly every available stretch of wall and patch of pavement - save one.

Wedged between an overgrown bush and the inoperable, stone fountain sat a dark-haired boy with a long, wet stick resting in his lap. Exposed nails and knots of hanging ivy poked out from the surrounding fence. It wasn't exactly prime real estate, but still, somehow the wiry-looking boy had managed to claim this corner of courtyard all for himself. Angled away from the door, he hunched protectively over something in the grass, his eyes flitting about whenever he glanced suspiciously over one shoulder.

Domino ignored the shrill hoots and hollers of the children across the square and marched right over to the shifty, little boy. He was eagerly hissing at the ground but fell silent as soon as her slight shadow draped over his play area. She leaned around to peek at whatever it was he was playing with and promptly received a most-impressive glare.

Domino's eyes, however, grew big and round as they fell upon a small, coiled snake.

"Are you talking to that snake?" she gasped, her muddy-brown eyes meeting his grassy-green grey.

"Yes," hissed the boy as he appraised her warily.

And, without further ado, she plopped down next to him, adjusting her body to shield the snake from anymore prying eyes.

Domino simply loved animals of all shapes and sizes. She had always wished for the ability to speak with one of the fascinating beasts, though all of her attempts had been woefully unsuccessful.

Thus, while staring reverently at the coiled creature, she clasped her hands in front of her chest and squealed inelegantly, "It's so cute! What's it saying?"

The boy raised his dark eyebrows in surprise, before carefully schooling his expression back into a cool, unaffected glare.

"Why should I tell you?" he demanded.

She gave a small shrug and stated plainly, "I don't know? Because it's cool."

The odd, little boy stared quietly for a moment, before narrowing his eyes once more and whispering, "She says she's traveled a great distance."

After a brief moment of consideration, Domino inquired earnestly, "Is she hungry?"

She hoped to earn the friendship of both the snake and the snake-boy by being helpful. The young boy didn't seem to be particularly friendly, but Domino was used to these emotionally-distant sorts.

See, the greater Dewey family was practical, logical, and no-nonsense as a rule. Her father had been the sole exception, as even Domino herself tended towards polite seriousness. She supposed it was exactly that sort of practical mindset that led to her uncle's decision to drop her off here.

When the boy finally quit his staring, he hissed something unintelligible at the snake. The little snake's pink tongue poked at the air as it responded with a low, quiet hiss of its own.

"Yes," the boy then translated disinterestedly, "She says she swam here to look for food and a place to lay her eggs."

"She's laying eggs?" Domino crooned, bouncing up and down on her crossed legs.

"It would seem so," the boy answered flatly, apparently unimpressed.

Domino wasn't the least bit surprised by his scorn for her childish, emotional displays - boys were always like that. What _did_ surprise her was that he was even bothering to hide his obvious interest. Because, yes, despite his practiced, bored expression, Domino could clearly see that his sharp, intelligent eyes were glinting wildly.

"Say, we should go find some food for her!" exclaimed Domino, jumping to her knees and then posing mid-squat, as if a race were to begin any second, "And then maybe we can build a nest for her babies!"

"We?" sneered the boy, an expression of pure incredulity on his face.

"Yeah! Me and you, silly!" she replied, rolling her eyes.

Apparently that was not the proper thing to say to this boy, however. He tensed immediately, raising the long, wet stick from his lap and gripping the wood so hard his knuckles blanched white.

He stabbed the stick emphatically at Domino's face, while growling dangerously, "I am _not_ silly."

Domino's face scrunched into an uncomfortable position as she strained her eyes, attempting to focus them on the tip of the stick, which was currently hovering an inch in front of her miniature nose. However, she was not afraid of this boy, his stick, or his silly temper-tantrum. No, she was much too interested in this power of his to let him scare her away. She would simply ignore his moodiness, so that they could move along already to the more important stuff.

"Okay, fine. We can be serious if you want," she sighed, shuffling away from the stick, before continuing enthusiastically, "So… How do you say _Hello_ in snake?"

The boy merely scoffed, "What makes you think _you_ can speak snake?"

Domino was becoming quite exasperated with this boy's difficult attitude. Good grief, there were magical forces of nature to be studied and harnessed! Who had time to get territorial or speculate?

Summoning her patience, she explained matter-of-factly, "I don't know - but, we should find out! You need to train."

The boy's cool demeanor broke, and he blurted out in surprise, "Train?"

"Yeah! You _obviously_ have superpowers. Not like The Shadow's powers, but the idea is the same…. You're just like… Doctor Dolittle and Mary Poppins! Ah, those books are my favorite…" swooned the little bibliophile as she trailed off, before quickly resuming her gleeful explanation, "Maybe you have even more special powers, and you don't even know it!"

Once more, the boy replaced his face with a neutral mask. He was quite good at that, actually. And, indeed, as he pondered silently for a long moment, the only indication of change to his fine facial features was a slight narrowing and widening of the eyes.

"So? Maybe I do have more powers…" he started to say slowly, finishing in a challenging tone, "What do I need you for?"

Domino supposed it was a fair question, although she thought it was quite plain-as-day that this boy needed her assistance. So far, he seemed rather rude and rather lonely and rather unmotivated to make some sense of this power of his. Good grief… He had mystical powers to develop, and all he was doing was sitting here _brooding_!

"I can help! I can be your sidekick! Like Tonto and the Lone Ranger…" she tried to explain.

However, Domino swiftly gathered from the boy's blanker-than-usual expression that orphans didn't get the chance to listen to too many radio shows. Ugh, her new life at the orphanage was going to be difficult indeed…

"The point is, I can help you," she huffed, "and, maybe I can learn some magic too."

"Magic?" he inquired with amusement, "I thought you said superpowers…"

"Magic _is_ a superpower! Haven't you read Mary Poppins yet?" she scoffed, "It says everyone is born with magic, but only exceptions like Mary Poppins get to keep it. _And_ , she can speak to animals - just like you!"

The boy puzzled over this newest information, before admitting indifferently, "No, I haven't read that book. All the new books at the library are always checked out…"

"Oh," Domino gasped in horrified fascination as she considered the unprecedented horror of having to fight other people for books, "That sounds terrible! You can borrow my copy if you like. My uncle only let me bring the one, though…"

The boy seemed a bit surprised by her offer, and Domino couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever been offered a book before. All of the other children seemed to avoid him, and she couldn't imagine them sharing with him anything more than the time of day - and then again, maybe not even that, if he was always this caustic in conversations.

"Also… This Mary Poppins…" he began musing aloud, while casually glancing around the visible courtyard, as if their magical conversation was only _slightly_ more interesting than the cement, "I can't really speak to all animals. So far, it's just snakes."

His emotional expressions were so minute, some miniscule flicker of movement here or there on his otherwise-neutral face. However, Domino believed she was starting to get the hang of it - he really would've made an excellent Dewey. Yes, buried just beneath his bored expression there was a hint of painful discomfort. For some unfathomable reason, it was as if he thought admitting he could only speak _one_ secret magical language instead of _all of them_ was some extreme mark of shame.

"Hmm… Well, see! That's why we need to investigate this, like good detectives…" she replied encouragingly, quite eager to begin their secret training, "I know! We should make a list."

Before the strange boy could protest, Domino jumped to her feet and dashed all the way to the front door. The doors were quite heavy and she struggled against the rightmost one with all of her weight, pushing hard as a few older children snickered from their lounging spot near one of the tall windows. Finally, Domino was able to prop the door open just enough to squeeze through, and she carefully made her way up to her room.

The orphanage was organized rather practically, but, really, so was a prison. Hallways filled with monotonous rows of doors, each leading to nearly indistinguishable rooms, did little to banish the impression that this was a place for the unremarkable, the common, the rejected. Everything here was quite clean but worn-down, as if the entire building's existence were but an afterthought of the world.

Domino padded up three flights of dimly-lit, chipped, stone stairs to the floor reserved for all children ages eight to ten. She then turned left for the eastern half of the building, which was reserved for females only. She next proceeded towards the third door from the second window on the left. As she passed nondescript door after nondescript door, she tried to imagine that she was just a unique, beautiful, beloved book being reshelved at at an orderly library, rather than an unwanted child being stuffed away and stored behind some blank, anonymous door.

Finally, she reached her new bedroom. It appeared that Mr. Cole had finished assembling the upper bunk for Domino's bed, though no one had bothered inviting the orphans back inside and out of the drizzling rain. Her small suitcase was exactly where she'd left it, resting next to the girls' shared wardrobe. Thus, Domino very quickly rifled through her things, retrieved a notepad and her favorite pen, and then raced back down the stairs.

Yanking on the doorknob, she had just about opened the heavy front door wide enough to escape outside, when a cold, bony hand slapped down firmly on her right shoulder. Domino released the door handle with a yelp, her gaze snapping up to greet her stern captor.

"Miss Dewey, what on Earth are you doing inside?" snapped a rather weary-looking Mrs. Cole, "Do you not realize that you have very limited time outside to play?"

"Yes, ma'am - I mean, no! No, ma'am, I do not _not_ realize…" Domino stammered as she wrestled with the logic of her own words, "I was just retrieving some of my things from upstairs."

"Retrieving," slurred the matron, cocking a thin eyebrow as she thoughtfully rolled the word over her tongue, "That is a very nice word for someone your age. Do you do well in school, Miss Dewey?"

"Yes, ma'am," Domino answered without hesitation.

"And so polite too. Good, good. I suspect you won't be with us for too much longer, Miss Dewey," said the matron, looking quite relieved.

Domino didn't know what Mrs. Cole had to be so relieved about. Domino hadn't been the slightest bit troublesome or noisy. In fact, she thought Mr. and Mrs. Cole were far more likely to disturb _her_ peace than the other way around. Whether it was arguing over the bed assembly or screaming at each other about adult drinks in the kitchen, it seemed like those two were _always_ fighting.

Still, guilt nagged at her delicate heart for being such a bother. Domino crossed her arms and scuffed at a stone floor tile with her dirty shoes.

Her expression was rather downcast as she replied, "I suppose not. My daddy said he didn't want to be gone _too_ long."

"I see. Well," Mrs. Cole said sharply, glaring at the crusty streaks of mud that Domino had rubbed into the floor, "Miss Dewey, in time you'll learn to accept that your father is not coming back."

Domino abruptly ceased her guilt-ridden ritual. With the inner sole of one shoe, she swept the crumbling mess she'd made into a neat, little pile, while she stubbornly prepared to argue against this foolish notion until she was blue in the face. Her father was a good man, and he loved her!

Voice raising to a tender whine, she stammered once more, "But, Mrs. Cole, he _is_! He's just on a trip - he doesn't know I'm -"

"Please, calm down, Miss Dewey. There's no need to make a scene," the matron interrupted curtly, her tone clipped but her expression surprisingly gentle, "Leave that mess - the others will only track more in later. Now, run along! I think that's quite enough of this for today."

Thankfully, Mrs. Cole pried open the obnoxiously-heavy door, before shooing the girl away. Finally, Domino was free once more, free to rejoin her hissing playmate and get down to the bottom of this superpower business.

The pale, British boy was still seated cross-legged beside his scaly companion. However, he sat up straighter as he saw Domino approach, clearing his throat and fixing her with a condescending glare. No sooner had Domino reclaimed her grassy seat than the boy launched into what seemed to be a meticulously prepared and rehearsed speech.

"It's about time! Now, you clearly are ignorant of the way this place, Wool's Orphanage, works. Firstly, no one is going to just _share_ pencils and paper with -"

"That's okay, I brought my own!" interrupted Domino, which of course left the little boy fuming mid-speech, "I also have some crayons and a coloring book. If you want, I can show you those later?"

The boy ground his teeth in irritation, clenching and unclenching his fists and violently pulling at the grass. It was such a shame to see perfectly-good grass cut down in its prime, but Domino supposed an orphaned loner like him didn't exactly have an abundance of emotional outlets.

"As I was saying, you are ignorant," spat the boy, before he finally smoothed his furious scowl back into his favorite neutral expression and continued, "Don't expect people to share. Secondly, you don't just parade _your_ stuff around or it's liable to get stolen. Thirdly, and most importantly, _I_ do not play with someone like _you_."

"Why not?" she cried in protest, interrupting the wannabe-orator yet again.

He deadpanned, "I don't associate with people too ignorant to know the meaning of the word 'ignorant."

Ugh! His ignorance of her lack of ignorance of the word ignorant was most insulting. Domino had never won any spelling bees per se, but she was an advanced, avid reader - and that meant vast, voracious, voluminous vocabulary!

"I know what ignorant means!" she scoffed, raising her chin in defiance, "It means 'lacking knowledge.'"

At this point the patch of Earth on which they sat had been reduced to a grass-littered graveyard, and Domino feared the boy might start pulling out his own hair next. However, more casualties were mercifully spared, when the odd child finally folded his hands in his lap and grasped onto the long stick instead.

"Well, perhaps you're capable of basic reading vocabulary after all, but you're still not as smart as me," the boy said pleasantly, while his haughty smirk said something else entirely, "Do you know the definition for the term ' _liable_ '?"

"Hmm… no, but I know the definition for the term _pompous_ ," she retorted, before giggling wildly at her own joke.

 _SNAP!_

With a vicious snap, the long stick cracked into two halves. The boy now held a jagged half-stick in either hand, brandishing one on either side of his menacing glare.

Between sharp, shallow breaths, he hissed, "Go. Away. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me, new girl!"

"Domino," she immediately replied.

Slowing his angry panting, the boy lowered each stick to the ground and frowned in confusion as he asked, "Pardon?"

Correcting the boy had been a reflex as involuntary as blinking. She had been introducing herself to other children all day, and it had simply slipped out.

"My name is Domino, not new girl," she explained.

Each jagged half of the now-mutilated stick clattered to ground, adding yet another set of plant remains to the boy's already-crowded, grass-strewn graveyard. Either corner of his lips rose gracefully up the gentle contours of his face as his frown resurrected into a wicked, jeering smile.

"Well! And here I thought _I_ had a poor given name," he laughed bitterly, "At least I'm not named after a tabletop game."

Domino knew he probably expected her to cry or to run off in a huff. But, she'd been weathering the inevitable storm of insults that accompanied her name for quite some time - and she was proud to say that she'd grown a rather-thick skin. Domino also knew he probably _wasn't_ expecting her to be pleased.

Yet, contrary to expectation, her eyes grew wide as saucers, and her delicate eyebrows jolted upwards to hide behind her bangs. The boy looked quite perturbed as she eagerly leaned over her crossed legs and drew nearly nose-to-nose with him.

She gasped, "You don't know what 'domino' means!"

The boy's eyes narrowed intently, his gaze flitting about her face as he seemed to be desperately recalculating something.

"What? Of course, I know what a domino is…" he muttered.

"Nope!" she tutted, while touting a playful grin, "They didn't just make the word up for the game! There are _two_ other definitions. Historical facts, really… Well! Guess you're not as smart as _me_."

Though he'd already exhausted all available vegetation targets, the boy promptly resumed his fuming. Really, he was quite good at that as well. Domino was even starting to consider adding masks, glares, and angry outbursts to his superpowers list.

"You do _not_ want to make an enemy of me, Domino," growled the boy, delivering each syllable of her unfortunate name with disdain.

Yes, yes, he really was quite good at this fuming thing. Of course, she had her own sort of superpower as well - she was rather good at getting along with people when she wanted to.

Arming herself with her friendliest smile, she replied genuinely, "Of course not! I want to make you a friend!"

"You want to be my friend?" sneered the boy, his tone tragic in its disbelief.

Domino slapped a muddy palm to her face and sighed. This was going to be much harder than she'd thought…

"Duh! That's why I'm over here?" she said, rolling her eyes at the obviousness of it all, before returning to this befriending business, "So. We should start by listing our powers…"

At last, she propped her small notepad against her knee and prepared her pen with a satisfying click.

"I don't need friends," the boy muttered quietly.

"Okay…" Domino mused aloud, staring thoughtfully at the blank first page of her notepad, "I don't think that sounds very powerful though."

"No, you idiot!" he snapped, "I'm telling you to go away and leave me alone."

Domino couldn't recall ever meeting a boy more difficult than this one - more ' _obstinate,_ ' if she were to use her considerable reader's vocabulary. After a long morning filled with parental abandonment, she was far too tired to indulge his pettiness any longer. Why was he so dead-set on wasting time? They could be well on their way to being friends with magical superpowers by now.

"No way! There's way too much work to do," she insisted, heaving out a dramatic sigh, while she counted the tasks on her fingers, "We still have to figure out magic and write down the snake language and feed the pregnant snake…"

"Fine," agreed the boy quite unexpectedly, "I will allow you to work with me… for now."

"Yay!" Domino shouted triumphantly, hovering her pen tip over the empty notepad page, before she gasped, "Oh, wait - what's your name anyway?"

"Tom," he answered shortly, a strange, bitter edge to his voice.

"Tommm…" she hummed as she penned his name on one of the faint, blue lines, "Nice name."

* * *

OUR SECRET POWERS / MAGICK

TOM: (1) SPEAK TO SNAKES* (2) MIND CONTROL (3) HURT BAD PEOPLE / TELEKINESIS

DOMINO: (1) MAKE PEOPLE LIKE ME / PSYCHIC? (2) SPEAK TO SNAKES**

*MAYBE OTHER ANIMALS

**HAVE TO LEARN FROM TOM THE HARD WAY

* * *

THE SECRET LANGUAGE OF SNAKES

hello - ha dis ha

grass - kiss da sas

Tom - hiss dak sss

Domino - das ki ka sss


	2. Playing Games and Making Scenes

II

 **Playing Games and Making Scenes**

* * *

Domino and Tom were busy debating some of the finer points of psychology and mysticism, while they gathered and piled grass shoots into an orderly nest for their new pet snake. Really, Tom could be quite brilliant, when he wasn't raging or pointing sticks at people.

"I can't really read anyone's thoughts though. It's mostly just hunches that help me get my way and get to the bottom of things," Domino explained as she patted some leaves into the half-buried garden pot they'd chosen for the snake nest.

"Yes, but if you can anticipate people's needs and actions, detecting and experiencing their emotions, that may imply some sort of subconscious mental ability," argued Tom as he flicked a few stray blades of grass at Domino.

Tom's voice was thick with haughtiness, so thick that Domino was convinced he must _love_ hearing himself talk. Well, then again… she supposed he didn't really have anyone else to talk to before - not unless you counted the snake.

"Perhaps a test is in order," Tom added suddenly, interrupting Domino's musings, "I am a master of hiding and manipulating emotion. Let us see if you can read me."

"I don't think it really works that way…" she began to say.

"Just do it, Domino," he snapped irritably, a small twitch of his eyebrow indicating that he was not playing around.

Staring at his twitchy eyebrow, Domino seriously considered starting yet another secret list dedicated to Tom's mannerisms alone. Good grief, she needed a full translation dictionary just to keep track of all of his shifting moods - he was about as cryptic and secretive as the snake!

"Err - what am I supposed to be doing exactly?" she sighed, while resigning herself to whatever "test" he'd concocted.

"Well, you certainly will earn no points for finesse," he answered sharply, "Just look at me, and tell me. Tell me something about myself, something you shouldn't know."

"Um, okay…" she replied uncertainly.

Sweeping her gaze over Tom's carefully positioned face, she noted how his pleasant smile didn't quite reach his eyes and how any softness to his features was offset by the tension across his shoulders. The drizzling rain had finally stopped, but a few pearly raindrops still clung to his sleek, black hair, and he shivered ever-so-slightly in the chill of the overcast evening.

Domino knew he was probably looking for something definitive, like a fact about his greatest fear or his favorite book, but that just wasn't how this "ability" of hers worked. She never really planned on it - it'd just come to her. With a great, big sigh, she decided to just start babbling.

"I'm just going to start listing observations and see what happens. That seems logical, right?" she asked hesitantly, continuing once he'd agreed with a firm nod, "Alright. First of all, I don't think you're as mean as you like to act. Some of the other kids here seem to be afraid of you, but they also seem a bit…"

Domino hesitated, glancing over at Amy and the other girls. They were kind of annoying, but so far they'd been friendly. She didn't want to finish her first day at the orphanage by insulting her roommate and a bunch of people she hardly knew. Besides, she still wasn't convinced that jab-people-with-sticks-boy hadn't done something to deserve his loner status.

"Well, I bet you're pretty tough and fearless when you want to be," she amended diplomatically, "You don't really like other people, because they hurt you and make you feel bad and you can't trust them… Am I doing, okay?"

Tom narrowed his eyes in suspicion, his steady gaze roving over her face, while he openly scrutinized and evaluated her every physical reaction. Of course, it wouldn't help Tom's obvious paranoia that Domino had this nasty habit of always acting guilty even when she was completely innocent… Ugh, she didn't know why, but she was always ready to believe that she'd done something wrong.

"I am unconvinced," he answered finally, before commanding in a magnanimous tone, "but write it down anyway. We can revisit this later."

Quite relieved to finally step out of the spotlight - or searchlight, more accurately, when Tom was involved - Domino scrawled _Psychic?_ along her short list of "superpowers." Honestly, it was quite a weak and pathetic list next to things like mind control and speaking with snakes. However, Tom had yet to comment on the obvious discrepancy, and Domino could not for-the-love-of-books guess why. With all of his witty barbs and other sharp commentary, jeering at her obvious lack of talent would've been completely within character…

"Also," he added suddenly, "People can't hurt me, Domino - that would require me to actually care what they think."

Domino just rolled her eyes.

"Is the snake ready for her nest? Maybe we can find a way to heat some rocks for her to bask on. Snakes are cold-blooded after all…" she mused aloud, while she stood with her hands on her hips, inspecting their work.

"I know," Tom snapped, before calming and adding, "I suppose we could leave some stones next to the oven or the fireplace and bring them here tomorrow. And by 'we,' I mean ' _you_ ' - no one lets me near fire anymore."

"Why? What'd you do?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Mind your own business," Tom growled, though he looked quite pleased with her enraptured expression, "You've been given a task. Now, carry it out, if you want the snake babies to live."

Domino scoffed, her face scrunching into her most persuasive scowl. Since when did he make the rules? She bet this was all on account of her being a girl - boys could take care of snake babies too!

"Good grief!" cried Domino, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation, "Why are you so bossy all the time? Would it kill you to ask nicely?"

Tom merely smirked. He seemed to enjoy her torment, taking great pleasure in her obvious aggravation. Boys were always like that - taunting and teasing and pulling on her hair. At least Tom only pulled grass… She supposed it was also a small blessing that Tom wasn't actually the one fuming for once.

"Why should I be nice? Nice people just finish last anyway," he said, his tone as condescending as if he were explaining cutlery to one of the orphaned toddlers.

"That's not true!" Domino growled in frustration, much too annoyed to go along with his negativity, "People always take care of people they like."

Tom's grin grew even wider as he answered slyly, "Ah, yes. But, being nice isn't the same as being liked, is it?"

Domino had just about found a clever retort for the obnoxious snake-boy, when a loud, authoritative voice carried over the courtyard.

"Domino Dewey! Inside please," Mrs. Cole called sternly.

All eyes in the courtyard searched for Domino, and within mere moments every child's gaze was fixated directly on her. Fortunately, she and Tom had chosen a well-concealed nest for the snake. The cracked, terracotta pot was buried on its side in an overgrown flower bed, and the mulch-filled bed was nestled between a small garden shed, the fountain, and the wildest wall in the courtyard. Thus, it was at least safe to say that none of these eyes would be spotting their pregnant pet.

"Do _not_ mention the snake," Tom whispered hurriedly, a rare expression of frightened concern gracing his face, "She'll send for an exterminator, I assure you."

"I won't tell," promised Domino, her tone grave as she began her dreadful march to the front door.

The silence in the courtyard was deafening. And, as she shambled up the short, stone walk to the patiently waiting matron, she did her best to avoid the courtyard worth of stares. Domino was sure that this spectacle was all the more interesting, because she was "the new girl."

When she finally crossed the threshold into the main building, Mrs. Cole motioned her out of the way and let the door swing shut with an ominous thud. Then, the matron proceeded to peer down her sharp nose at her, while idly rubbing at a large, silver cross that she'd pulled from her blouse.

"Yes, Mrs. Cole?" Domino whispered.

"Do not ask ' _yes_ ' to an adult, Miss Dewey," chided the matron, "It's ' _How may I help you?_ ' or ' _I beg your pardon, Mrs. Cole_ ' - never ' _yes_.'"

Domino trembled slightly as she took in the woman's clipped words. She hoped Mrs. Cole wasn't angry enough to use that cane the other children had spoken of…

"Yes, ma'am," she said politely, delivering the words as clear and well-enunciated as possible.

Mrs. Cole sniffed, "Good. Well, I suppose that rough American accent of yours will help to smooth over any offense - prospective parents can't fault you for your lack of breeding after all."

Domino couldn't help but bristle a bit at her statement. The way Mrs. Cole spoke, one might think this was a stable for breeding stock horses, rather than a supposed home for boys and girls. Indeed, all morning, during her tour of the grounds, the explanations for daily activities and household rules seemed to lead back to the same line of reasoning - what would "sell" well or what would attract adoptive parents.

"Very well," Mrs. Cole continued firmly, "It has come to my attention, Miss Dewey, that you've been playing with Tom Riddle this afternoon. Is this true?"

"Yes, ma'am," she answered truthfully.

Suddenly, her heart was pounding against her chest, and she felt that familiar guilty expression creeping onto her face. Oh no, did Mrs. Cole know about the snake?

"Miss Dewey, I cannot stress enough that this behavior must stop, if you ever wish to make it out of this orphanage," the cross matron stated grimly.

Careful not to prematurely jump to conclusions, Domino decided to clarify by asking, "I… beg your pardon, Mrs. Cole, but what do you mean?"

Mrs. Cole sighed and brought her free hand to her face, massaging at her temples.

"I know he looks handsome enough, Miss Dewey, but looks can be deceiving. There is something very wrong with that boy," she said, rubbing even more roughly at the crucifix in her palm, "Nothing but darkness and trouble await for anyone near him! Just ask poor Billy Stubbs - he had the misfortune of being his friend early on, and it cost him dearly."

Domino couldn't believe this was all about Tom. It was one thing for bullies and fearful children to gang up on him, but now the matron was badmouthing him too?

Still, Billy Stubbs seemed like a very shy, very sweet, little boy. She couldn't imagine him ever causing anyone any offense. And, if Tom had wronged _him_ , it would probably be wise to find out exactly what happened, before it happened to her…

"Miss Dewey, God makes little boys like that to test the rest of us," she muttered wearily, "Be wary! Do not fall prey to his dangerous games."

Domino nodded submissively and chirped a respectful _Yes, ma'am_ , but something was still rubbing her the wrong way. Who was Mrs. Cole to judge what Tom had been _made_ for? Wasn't the whole point of religion supposed to be love and forgiveness anyway?

Mrs. Cole finally pried open the front door. A hush fell over the courtyard, but after a sharp order from the matron to quit their gawking, the courtyard's inhabitants returned to their own noisy business once more. Domino promptly pointed herself in the direction of the snake nest and set off.

"What did I just tell you, girl?" cried Mrs. Cole from the doorway, "Away from that corner now!"

Domino turned around, padded halfway up the front door steps, and paused. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and appealed to the matron.

"But, Mrs. Cole! He has my notepad and my favorite pen!"

Mrs. Cole's harsh demeanor softened considerably, but she still didn't seem to be the least bit surprised by this. Domino certainly hoped the matron didn't think she was accusing Tom of stealing…

"Very well, Miss Dewey," Mrs. Cole replied curtly, "but I expect to see you elsewhere next time I open this door."

"Yes, ma'am," said Domino, giving a small, unnecessary bow, before dashing over to the snake's pot.

When she arrived a short moment later, Tom was currently engaged in a staring match with Mrs. Cole, who was closing the door so slowly you almost couldn't blink if you wanted to see it move. Finally, the door thudded shut, and Tom whirled around to face Domino with a suspicious glare.

"What happened? Tell me," demanded Tom.

 _Good grief! We're back to this already?_ thought Domino, who had just about reached her daily capacity for confrontation and glares, thank you very much.

Domino scooped up her notepad and pen from its resting place on the fountain rim. Hugging them to her chest, she rocked back and forth on her heels and toes as she struggled with this awkward situation.

"Mrs. Cole says we can't play together anymore. Sorry," Domino muttered weakly, hardly able to look at his twinkling grey eyes.

The boy said nothing. He just stared, looking rather bored and rather irritable and rather unaffected - but Domino knew better. She could see it in the thinnest crease between his eyebrows, the hardness of his unmoving lips, and the wild gleam across his eyes - he was furious.

With a heavy sigh, Domino turned and wandered dejectedly over to Amy Benson's slice of the courtyard.

* * *

"Typical. What a waste of effort!" Tom grumbled to no one in particular.

The snake had long since curled up and fallen asleep in her new nest. Her jet-black, circular pupils rested eerily on Tom, while the snake murmured things like ' _juicy frogs_ ' and ' _bite its head_ ' between long, wheezy hisses. Who knew snakes could sleep-talk anyway?

Ugh, Tom had listened to that Domino girl prattle on for over an hour about all of her stupid ideas. And now, thanks to Mrs. Cole, nothing would ever come to fruition. Domino had even taken the lists, the notepad, and the pen. Now, he was left with nothing to do but stare at the clouds and pull at the weeds.

Over by the popular kids' wall, Domino was skipping along with Amy Bishop and the others, playing Ring-Around-the-Rosie, and taking turns with Amy's toys. They were all so determined to take everything for themselves. They were all so determined to leave Tom with nothing.

"Idiots," Tom spat as he glowered around the side of the cracked, moss-covered fountain.

Amy Bishop was the girl with all the toys. The girl's wealthy mother must have felt especially guilty when she tossed her daughter in here, into this 'used children' bin, because she'd left Amy three full boxes worth of clothes and toys - enough to last her through her early childhood years. Tom, of course, had only been left his name, and the harsh reality of Wool's Orphanage was that the person with the better toys _always_ wins.

"Ewww! Domino he's looking at you again!" shrieked Amy, prompting a chorus of obnoxious giggling from the other girls.

Domino's head snapped up from the worn doll she'd been sharing with one of the younger girls. She flashed Tom a sympathetic smile, which promptly morphed into a guilty grimace. That girl always looked guilty.

 _As if I care what you think_ , thought Tom as he angled his body away from the girls and did his best to look like he was engaged in some fascinating conversation with the snake.

Every few minutes Domino would glance over at him again, frowning. Not that Tom cared - he'd already wasted enough time on her. Thankfully, he didn't have to deal with her anymore, and he could finally get back to glaring around the garden, waiting for Mrs. Cole to come out and ring the dinner bell.

* * *

It was a good twenty minutes after curfew when six soft knocks sounded in quick succession at his door. Tom bolted up in bed. He'd been watching the shadows on the ceiling as he always did, waiting for sleep to swoop down and take him. No one ever came to his door - at least not for anything good.

Thus, it was with great trepidation that Tom padded across the cold, stone floor and creaked open his door. His concern was unwarranted, however, for as he craned his head around the edge of the door, he saw nothing but the closed mirror-image of his own door on the far wall. Furthermore, as he took one tentative step into the hallway and peered about, he could see no dark silhouettes, human or otherwise, roaming the moonlit corridor.

It was then that Tom heard a faint rustling beneath his feet. Glancing down, he saw a thin roll of paper wedged under the door. He immediately snatched up the paper, eased the door shut, and then dashed back to bed with his prize.

Moonlight was streaming through Tom's small, square window, the window frame stenciling gleaming white rectangles across the dark-grey floor. Normally, Tom was pleased when darkness obscured the meagre state of his room, but tonight he was glad that some light had prevailed. After rolling and unfolding two carefully-packed sheets of paper, Tom held up the inked notebook page and read within a square of moonlight.

 _Dear Tom,_

 _I'm sorry we didn't get to finish our game today. I don't know why everyone is so against us playing together, but I guess every superhero has enemies and secrets._

 _I hope you won't be too mad at me for leaving you alone. Mrs. Cole said she'd be watching._

 _Also, don't worry, I've got a plan. I think this is a job for my secret power. But, until then, we can always pass notes and just leave them by the snake pot._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Domino_


	3. Pressing Points and Baiting Beasts

_\- Author's Foreword -_

 _DISCLAIMER: Any religious references presented are not intended as critical commentary, positive or negative, and do not represent my particular beliefs. In the 1930's most of England's orphanages were institutions built by Christian organizations or Christian philanthropists. I've chosen to model Wool's Orphanage after one of the "kinder" orphanages (...believe-it-or-not after this chapter...) and for plot reasons, as well as historical consistency, that includes some of the Christian and Victorian ideals that would have been pushed by the establishment._

* * *

III

 **Pressing Points and Baiting Beasts**

* * *

Wool's Orphanage was certainly a practical institution, as Domino soon came to learn. Every day could be expected to pass in a fashion nearly identical to the one before.

Every morning Mrs. Cole's heels would clack down the stone hall as she banged a metal pipe against the doors. Every morning they'd don their numbered uniforms and line up in the hall for roll call. Every morning each child would call out their number, before proceeding downstairs for breakfast - Domino's was thirteen. Every morning they'd say prayers, and then the bullying and negotiating and pleading would begin as each child did their best to make out with a full, decent meal.

They'd spend every day on the building's ground floor, which was reserved for dining and education. The boys would learn crafts and march like good, little boys, and the girls would cook, sew, and clean like good, little girls. Some days volunteer teachers would come to the orphanage, and Domino would finally have a chance to read and _think_. Sundays they'd have Bible Study. Most days, however, they'd be left to their own devices outdoors, where she and Tom would go swap letters by the snake pot.

Every evening they'd have "sick call," in which each child was inspected for cleanliness and a minimum bill of health. And, every evening Mrs. Cole's assistant, Martha, would run down Domino's hallway, closing all the unlockable doors. Domino would wait for her roommates' breathing to slow, before finally sneaking a peek at the day's letter. And, thankfully, as perhaps the only true novelty of the day, Tom wrote something _different_ every time.

 _Domino, you cannot keep giving Dennis your scraps. It cannot have escaped you that he is fat, and you are not. If you keep sharing food, they'll expect you to continue doing so in the winter. He'll be warm, and you will not - and then you'll die of pneumonia._

Domino sighed, lowering his letter to her chest. Sometimes, when giving advice, Domino swore Tom sounded just like her Aunt Deborah. Of course, he was probably right, as usual, but the truth didn't make it any easier to accept her new, harsh reality.

Her rickety bunk-bed creaked and groaned as she flipped over and onto her stomach. She waited for the flimsy bunk's trembling to subside, before carefully penning her reply.

Tomorrow she'd give this letter to Tom, and in return she'd get the letter with their superpowers conversation. She much preferred that one - it didn't involve bullies or updates on Mrs. Cole.

Ugh, Mrs. Cole…

It was already the third week of June and halfway through Domino's third week at the orphanage. Much to her chagrin, she'd been so tired and busy with her chores that she hadn't yet had an opportunity to enact her plan. Whenever she saw Mrs. Cole or Martha they were always too busy to chat, and whenever she was outdoors she was slipping earthworms to the snake or carefully avoiding suspicion by playing intently with the other children.

Patience certainly wasn't one of her superpowers, however, and, thus, she felt it was time for more drastic action - it was time to bait the beast.

* * *

If nothing else, Domino Dewey was certainly entertaining. Aside from his powers, their daily correspondence was Tom's only relief from the monotony that was orphanage life. However, he supposed it merely confirmed what he already knew - Wool's Prison had set his standards so low that even some obnoxious girl had become tolerable.

As Tom rounded the fountain and strode over to the snake-inhabited pot, a slight spring in his step, he was quite startled to find Domino sprawled out in the grass, kicking her feet against the fountain rim and staring lovingly at his pet snake. Her legs stopped swishing back and forth, and her eager face snapped upwards as soon as she heard Tom's rather loud entrance.

A beaming smile affixed to her face, Domino glowed as she whispered, "Tom! She's laid her eggs! Come look!"

"Domino, what are you still doing over here?! You know Mrs. Cole will be watching," Tom hissed, far more concerned for his own welfare than that of some baby snakes.

It wasn't that he was in any real _physical_ danger per se - Mrs. Cole and her staff had learned the hard way that bad things tend to happen when you try to discipline Tom. However, Tom couldn't risk more complications with his one and only steady, human correspondence. Mrs. Cole and the others were always warning people away, and he was bound and determined not to let that foolish woman win this time.

"Exactly, Tom! I want her to see. It's all part of my master plan," she cackled, releasing one of the least-threatening evil laughs he'd ever heard.

"And, what exactly is this master plan?" he asked coolly.

Giving, perhaps, one of the most infuriating responses known to man, she replied, "It's a surprise."

Tom hated surprises. Nothing good ever came from surprises. Surprise! You've caught pneumonia. Surprise! It's a bully. Surprise! You've wet the bed. Surprise! It's a lie.

No. Surprises were for idiots, idiots who thought nothing bad would ever touch them. And, Tom was no fool. He knew the less surprises there were in your life the better - planning and preparation always won the day.

"Not a chance, Domino. Tell me this plan, and tell me now," he ordered in his best authoritative voice.

"No! I'm not letting you suck the fun out of everything!" the girl cried indignantly.

"I do _not_ suck the fun out of everything," he snapped.

She was just like all the other children - obsessed with fun and play and all their other little hedonistic desires. Well, Tom refused to be bound by a bunch of exploitable human needs. Domino was just far too simple-minded to see how her attachments made her weak.

"Oh, really?" drawled Domino, squinting her eyes in a quite pathetic attempt at a glare, "What was the last fun thing you actually did?"

Hilarious. Domino was actually attempting to compare _him_ , Tom Marvolo Riddle, to the likes of Billy Stubbs and Amy Benson. And, of course, as usual, the competition had nothing to do with his considerable skill or his superior intellect or even his hidden power - it was all about popularity and "fun."

Recalling his latest victory, he answered with a sly grin, "Carpentry - carpentry class was fun."

"Uh huh," Domino murmured, her face drooping into a rather dumb-looking expression of disbelief, "And, was it actually the carpentry that was fun or the way Billy Stubbs' doll house ' _mysteriously_ ' caught on fire."

"You heard about that?" Tom blurted out in surprise.

"Please!" scoffed Domino, rolling her eyes, "All Amy _does_ is talk…"

Of course. Dennis and Amy were thick as thieves, and Dennis had surely relayed the juicy gossip to that mongering Amy. Still, he was rather pleased that news of his exploits had traveled so quickly.

"Well! Domino, I take great offense at the implication," lied Tom as he reclined against the stone fountain and drawled exaggeratedly, an affronted expression on his face, "There was absolutely _nothing_ mysterious about it! Mr. Cole is clearly the culprit. Truly, what idiot walks around with a lit cigarette in a room full of precious, wooden works of art?"

"Uh huh," Domino murmured again, sidling up next to Tom without her disbelieving expression budging an inch, "And, the cigarette flying around the room and into Billy's playhouse you had absolutely _nothing_ to do with?"

The corners of Tom's feigned frown twitched into a smirk. So, they did notice? Good. Now, everyone would know it was him, but no one would be able to prove it - just how he liked it.

Tom's nostrils flared as his mouth toyed with a much-less-dignified grin. However, his self-discipline won the battle as usual.

He stated innocently, "Perhaps Billy's wooden dolls should've invested in less flammable building materials… or at least a decent fire evacuation plan."

Domino rolled her eyes and scoffed, "Now you're just being ridiculous."

Ridiculous? Domino was getting much too comfortable with calling him names. He'd need to find a way to keep her in line without things going the way of Billy Stubbs. Besides, didn't she just ask him to be more fun? Girls were weird.

"I am never ridiculous, Domino. What is ridiculous is expecting me to have fun building homes when it's far more entertaining to burn them down," Tom explained quite reasonably.

Domino's face scrunched up again into that scowl that made her look like an angry kitten. It was quite… stupid.

"So, you admit it!" she cried, jumping onto her knees and spinning around, so that she might glare accusingly at Tom.

Tom's lips twitched into a leering smile yet again. He would never put a confession in writing, but there was nothing stopping him from reveling in the rumors for a bit…

"Ah, you should've seen it, Domino! The dolls were all charred and twisted and smoking - it was hilarious!"

Failing to see the obvious humor, Domino's eyes narrowed further as she said, "That doesn't sound very funny to me."

Of course, she didn't get it. Jokes were only funny when you weren't the subject of the joke. Humor was relative. Ethics were relative.

"Then, perhaps _you_ need to invest in a better sense of humor," Tom retorted.

Domino released a frustrated growl from between her bared teeth. Now, she looked like an angry kitten that wanted to be a lion. It was quite amusing, really.

"What do you have against Billy Stubbs anyway?" she demanded all of the sudden, "What'd he ever do to you?"

Tom was so sick and tired of that traitorous Billy Stubbs. How did Domino even hear about that? Was Billy talking about him? Most people had forgotten all about Tom's ill-fated "friendship" with Billy Stubbs. They had all stopped talking about that years ago… No, Tom wanted nothing more to do with that kid - not unless it was to be present for Billy groveling at his feet!

"I'm not going to waste my time attempting to educate you, Domino," he said icily, arrogance dripping from the words like venom.

"I'm not asking for an entire education, _Tom_ \- I just want to know what you have against Billy Stubbs! Sheesh!" she cried out in exasperation as she sat back on her heels and waved her hands about ridiculously, "You have no problem insulting everyone else…"

 _No one else has any problem insulting me…_ thought Tom indignantly, though he quickly shooed that thought away.

Tom had decided long ago that he was done playing the victim. No matter what stories he told people, he knew no one was coming to save him. Life was cruel, reality was cruel, and the only way out was to save yourself. Anything else was for children.

"Well, it's hardly my fault that you're such easy targets," he quipped.

"Billy was your friend, wasn't he?" Domino asked quietly, her sudden gentle tone quite unsettling.

The premise that this completely unremarkable girl had secret powers was exceedingly absurd. However… sometimes she'd make these uncanny leaps of logic or ask a question in just the right way that it left a painful pang in Tom's chest. There was definitely something off about her, and whatever it was, Tom would find some way to use it.

"I don't have friends," Tom stated matter-of-factly.

It was true, and there was no reason to deny it. Friends made you weak, and Tom was _not_ weak.

"Uh huh. Well then," exclaimed the stubborn girl as she crossed her arms and rocked her head back and forth in an infuriating display of sass, "I guess it's time for test number two of my psychic powers…"

Tom narrowed his eyes into his most fearsome glare. There was no way he'd tell her about Billy - that would play right into Mrs. Cole's hands.

"Careful, Domino," he hissed in warning, "You don't want to cross me."

It was too late, however. Tom could see it in the stubborn set of her jaw and that far-off look in her eyes. He'd been observing her carefully over the past few weeks, stealing covert glances across the dining hall and subtle glimpses from across the courtyard. This was how she looked right before she charged bull-headed into some ill-advised tirade.

"I think you hurt him. I think he didn't want to be friends anymore, and you can't stand being ignored," she snapped, that rebellious gleam in her eyes just daring Tom to disagree.

"You're wrong," Tom disagreed.

"Am I? Then, you seem pretty angry over nothing to me!" she said mockingly, her voice cloaked in false pleasantness.

Tom could see her writhing in pain on the dead ground in front of him, twisting and turning like a human made snake. He imagined her choking on grass as he stuffed it down her throat, Domino drowning in it like Dennis and Amy drowning that summer. Who knew what could happen? Maybe Domino would be foolish enough to accompany him to the cave this year…

But, no. No, that ran contrary to Tom's plans, and his desires always took precedence. He couldn't ensure that she'd keep writing to him if he tortured her. So, for now, he'd just have to make do with burning houses and such.

Tom sighed, "I didn't hurt him."

Thankfully, Domino's frustration faded as she accepted this morsel of information. She sidled up to Tom's side once more, her body quite warm against his shoulder.

"No? Then, why not just tell me?" she whispered, "Go ahead - tell me your side of the story."

Tom had to admit it - he was intrigued. No one had ever cared much for his input before. Despite his obvious superiority, the adults always sided with Billy's shy smile or Amy's pigtails and batting lashes or even Dennis' loud mouth. In a place best distinguished by everything being completely indistinguishable, the only added description Tom had ever received was "freak" - and no one cared what the freak thought.

New kids were always different, softer. They hadn't yet been molded and hardened by the orphanage's way of thinking. Billy had been like that, and then Tom had lost him. Domino would be taken too, so what did it matter?

Tom muttered, "He was my only friend, and they were going to take him away. I just wanted him to stay… I made sure he stayed…"

"Oh," Domino replied dumbly, as usual, "And, he wanted to go?"

There was no point in lying. The story was well-known around the orphanage - Mrs. Cole has seen to that. And, once the holier-than-thou matron had spotted Domino sitting over here with the "freak," she was sure to give Domino an earful of everything vile from her second-favorite, religiously-read book - _The Evil Life of Tom_.

"Yes. He liked them," answered Tom, trying to sound bored but quickly finding himself overcome by years of unresolved anger, "And, he was just going to leave me here! After all we'd been through, he was just going to leave me here and never look back - some friend _he_ was!"

Tom's breathing was heavy, heavy as it always was after stupid people made him rage. Domino's arm was still warm at his side, while the stone fountain was cool at his back. A light, June breeze rustled through their overgrown play spot, which was just a tad chilly as they sat in the shade. A minute or so passed as the orphans just reclined there, sinking into the dark soil.

"Okay," said Domino finally, her voice soft but sure, "Thank you for telling me."

"That's it?" Tom blurted out once more.

Truly, Tom was growing concerned that he needed to work a bit harder at his composure. He was more than adequately prepared for the average harsh day, but Domino's abnormal behavior kept catching him off guard.

"Well, yeah. I'm sorry that happened to you, but I thought you wouldn't want to talk about it anymore," she explained quietly, casting her gaze downward as she idly drew some squiggly shapes in the dirt.

What was she playing at? Tom's mind quickly flitted from possibility to possibility. Right about now, a _normal_ person would be moseying away from him. Perhaps they'd call him names or rant about how he'd ruined Billy's life or preach about how Tom deserved Hell. Any reasonably intelligent orphan would recognize that he was a threat. Truly, despite all of his best guidance, it would appear that Domino was still hopeless when it came to adopting a viable orphanage survival strategy.

"You're not going to tell me how selfish and _evil_ I am?" sneered Tom, figuring that Domino was likely just horrible at communicating her disdain.

Her gaze popped back up to his, and she inquired with a puzzled expression, "No? What good would that do?"

 _Indeed. She's hopeless,_ thought Tom.

This was just going to be too easy! What a shame. He always enjoyed a good challenge, and this almost seemed unsporting… Not even a snake bothers with dead prey. Oh well, it was no matter - Wool's Prison had set his standards _so_ low.

"I don't know. You're just odd," Tom admitted in a rather merciful stroke of honesty.

Domino leaned her head back against the rim of the fountain. Bushy vines trembled in the slight breeze, casting funny, moving shadows over her face as she fixed him with an unblinking stare.

"So are you," she said.

"Miss Dewey!" shrieked Mrs. Cole, her voice warbling as it always did when she was unpleasantly surprised, "I am so very disappointed. Come along! Now!"

And just like that, a bony hand descended from the sky, snatching away the only human gullible enough to converse with Tom without disdain. As Mrs. Cole yanked her to her feet, Domino struggled under the matron's steel grip and sputtered incoherently. And, as Mrs. Cole dragged Domino inside, most likely headed for the cane, Domino seemed far too preoccupied with the woman's tight squeeze on her arm.

Tom sighed, "She's so weak."

* * *

"Domino Dewey, you have been warned, you have been warned, you have been warned…" muttered the matron as she withdrew a thin, hooked cane from a cupboard, "I had hoped a nice girl like yourself would be able to follow simple instructions without resorting to such measures… But, I can see you won't learn unless I press the point."

Mrs. Cole thwacked the cane against her desk to emphasize her point of "pressing the point." Domino rubbed at her arm, while staring fearfully at the wooden cane. It looked just like a shepherd's crook from the Bible, though it looked a lot less threatening next to the fluffy, white sheep. Gulping back her fear, Domino sincerely hoped that she'd done enough research at today's Bible Study class - her whole plan hinged on it.

Domino imitated Tom's favorite neutral expression and said seriously, "Mrs. Cole, I understand. Punish me, if you must. This is what God wants."

Mrs. Cole gripped the cane tightly in both hands and tilted her head to one side. Her face wore an expression of both affront and shock, as if Domino had caused her some great offense by accepting her plight so blithely.

"I beg your pardon! Miss Dewey, what is this nonsense?" snapped Mrs. Cole, her right hand flying up to her tucked-in crucifix.

"Mrs. Cole, ma'am, I've been praying a lot ever since you mentioned how God sends boys like Tom to test us," Domino explained innocently, while silently praying that Tom's fire would mysteriously "test" that cane, "I couldn't help but wonder how God was testing _me_."

"Miss Dewey, God does not expect anything from you - except that you do what you're told!" shouted the matron.

She sent Domino a meaningful glare, though she seemed quite distressed. Her gaze continually drifted to a cabinet by her desk. Domino could only guess what sort of cruel and unusual punishments the woman stored in there…

"Now, turn around!" Mrs. Cole continued, "Let's get this over with."

Domino's heart was racing in her small chest. She'd been spanked before, a long time ago, but she wasn't the sort of disobedient child that often found herself in these positions. That cane did not look "fun" in the slightest - after this, she certainly would be expecting Tom to deliver!

"But, I think God does expect more from me, Mrs. Cole," Domino argued as she resumed her risky, religious narrative, "I think he spoke to me. Ephesians five two… 'And walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.' It came to me in Bible Study, Mrs. Cole. I need to make a loving sacrifice - to do like Christ did."

Mrs. Cole's distress was growing. She twisted the cane in her hands, wringing it like a dirty dishrag. Domino had learned from Tom that Mrs. Cole was very devout in her faith, and took great pride in making sure everyone knew it. Of course, Domino didn't really need him to tell her that - everyone knew it.

"That has nothing to do with Tom, Miss Dewey - that boy is beyond love and help," the matron uttered flippantly, though she was clearly at odds with herself.

"But, Mrs. Cole!" Domino cried in protest, eager to press _her_ point, "It happened right after I bumped into him on the stairs this morning… And, the Sunday after you warned me about Tom's trespasses, it was Galatians six one… 'Brethren, even if anyone is caught in any trespass, you who are spiritual, restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness.'"

Mrs. Cole's lips were pursed tight, and her complexion had grown ruddy. Her inner turmoil had lent her face the appearance of a pink balloon about to pop.

 _Balloon meet needle_ , thought Domino.

Domino clasped her hands together and shook them emphatically as she said, "Mrs. Cole, I've prayed and prayed about it, and I really think I'm supposed to help redeem Tom. He was just telling me about his regrets and his friendship with Billy Stubbs, and I really think he can be saved. If I must be caned, then I guess that's all part of my sacrifice. Jesus _died_ to save sinners, so the least _I_ can do is be caned."

* * *

"Psychic may not be the right term, but there is definitely something abnormal about you. You're definitely a freak," noted Tom.

Truly, the subject needed to be breached and this odd behavior addressed. Tom resented the word "freak" - mostly because it was always applied to him - but he truly thought such harsh truths were important for young Domino's growth. The freak needed to learn, for her own sake - okay, mostly for Tom's.

"A freak?" she muttered as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat of grass, "I'm not some mutant, Tom."

Domino was moving rather stiffly ever since she'd returned from Mrs. Cole's office, but Tom didn't dare ask about the cane. It was a matter of pride at the orphanage to endure the cane without tears, and Domino's eyes looked dry enough… Besides, Tom didn't want to call any attention to the fact if she had indeed been caned. He didn't like the idea of giving Domino any more leverage over him. It wasn't like he really _owed_ her or anything, but if she'd been caned for him then… well, _she_ might think he owed her.

Tom pressed his point instead, sneering with emphasis, "Well, I'm afraid that's not for you to decide, is it? No one gets to pick how they're born."

"Fine, but that makes you the friend of a freak, Tom," Domino said as she finally found an acceptable sitting position, her legs curled to one side.

Friend? Well then… his efforts had been successful. Soon, she would be completely under his control, and it would be too late for her to escape.

With a greedy grin, Tom replied, "Well… I suppose that can't be helped either."

She sighed, casting more weight onto her side as they both sat and watched the snake. Domino certainly seemed more serious than usual. Since she'd returned, she hadn't even asked any jarring personal questions or prodded him to demonstrate his powers or tested one of her crazy, new ideas… Truly, she was currently very silent and moderately tolerable - would wonders never cease?

"Also, you better keep up your end of the deal," she huffed, her face holding a rather impressive neutral aspect, "Mrs. Cole needs to see you acting nicer or she'll never believe you can be redeemed."

So, that's what was occupying her thoughts - Mrs. Cole. Tom certainly hoped the girl's no-doubt-wacky musings included at least a few creative punishments for that cruel, old matron.

"Were you lying?" asked Tom, eager to explore the dark depths of Domino's freakish mind.

"What?" she said dumbly, as usual, though the question lacked her usual amusing, dramatic flair.

Applying his considerable intellect, Tom pinpointed the most critical information to clarify. It was quite obvious, really - the most important, advantageous information always involved him.

"Were you lying about me being redeemable?" he drawled lazily, twirling a few long blades of grass around his pointer finger.

Domino appeared to be aggravated by this, though her ministrations once again lacked their usual liveliness. She glared at the tuft of grass that Tom was engaging, as if she thought _she_ could actually start fires with her mind - please! The destructive superpowers had all been properly listed as Tom's…

"No, I'm not a liar, Tom! I don't lie," she snapped.

Tom rolled his eyes. Pretending you didn't lie, pretending you didn't do wrong or crave the darkness was probably the worst lie of them all. Domino was in desperate need of an education.

"Everyone lies," Tom stated plainly, since Domino's education clearly needed to begin with the most basic of facts.

She bristled, a touch of lively vigor returning to her bland demeanor. Good. Domino was no use to him so gloomy and dejected.

"That's not true!" she protested, scrunching her face into that angry-kitten scowl, "You can just say things nicely or not say them at all…"

Tom encouraged Domino with one of his most ingratiating smirks. Yes, he was quite pleased. He had thought her to be a hopeless case, but here she was, blossoming into a sly, ruthless manipulator. He had to admit that he was quite impressed with her skillful handling of the 'Mrs. Cole situation.' Cruelly using the woman's own false beliefs against her was truly a stroke of genius.

"Ah, so you prefer more sophisticated manipulation?" Tom whispered conspiratorially.

"What?!" she shrieked, some color finally returning to her paled cheeks, "I am not manipulative, Tom! I'm just good at getting my way."

Ah, so it was all an act! What a clever ploy… feigning innocence, even while she pushed and prodded others to serve her own ends. Perhaps her naivétè was all just an act as well…

"And, how exactly is that different?" Tom asked mockingly, hoping to goad her into revealing her true nature.

However, Domino's temper cooled instead as she arranged her face into one of the most infuriating impressions of one of their volunteer teachers that he'd ever seen. Sure, Domino had an impressive grasp on English grammar and vocabulary, but why on Earth would she think _she_ had anything to teach Tom? He'd have surpassed her by several thousand _leagues_ by now if he'd gone to one of those privileged, children-with-parents schools.

"It's different, because I don't use my secret power to _hurt_ people," she preached, while Tom reminisced about her recent trip to the cane, "I only manipulate them if it doesn't hurt them or if it helps them."

On the other hand, perhaps Domino was simply in denial. She was a soft "new kid" after all, and she had yet to peel back those flimsy layers of childhood innocence that so many clung to. Fortunately, Tom could be patient. Childhood would end for her soon enough, and Tom would be there to shape and harness all of that dark, blossoming potential.

"You just admitted to being manipulative," Tom said pointedly.

With a huff, Domino bolted onto her knees, pressing her face close to his as she affixed him with another one of those angry-kitten glares. Her short breaths were rather loud next to his ear, and he could even count a few light freckles on her nose that he hadn't spotted before. Normally, he hated being touched or having his personal space invaded or really just having anyone in his general vicinity. However, this girl's fury was even more amusing up close, and the thought that she could ever be a threat to _Tom Riddle_ was laughable.

"Oh yeah?" growled the girl, clearly distressed at her flimsy facade being ousted, "Well, _you_ just admitted to burning people's buildings down!"

Tom merely chuckled. Blackmail, extortion, redirecting blame and attention to others' misdemeanors - oh yes, he and Domino _were_ going to have "fun."

Tom snatched up a small stick from a crack near the stone fountain's base. He twirled it around in his fingers, practicing one of the impressive figure-8 patterns he'd worked on. Presentation was everything.

"Ah, yes. I see your efforts at my redemption are going splendidly," he quipped.

A forceful puff of breath brushed past his cheek as she huffed, "That doesn't count - it happened before this! Besides, you only have to _act_ nice so that we can work together on our secret missions."

Ah, so this was all just a massive cover-up. Her faith in his acting skills was duly noted… He supposed even a lowly con-artist such as herself could recognize the mark of a true master. Yes, Tom Riddle was quite pleased. In fact, as she crouched at his side, doing her angry kitten impression, Tom was more than a little tempted to pet her ashy-brown head. Good cat.

"I understand, Domino," Tom drawled, moving his twirling fingers closer to her scowling face, "As long as you understand that I will be far more successful at corrupting _you_ than you will be at redeeming _me_."

Domino's features sprung into a look of unpleasant surprise, before she whispered in one of those irritating, gentle tones that did strange things to Tom's insides, "You say that like you're actually bad."

 _Has she not been paying attention?_ thought Tom in exasperation.

Honestly, she'd been warned by all and most likely caned. Not to mention, he'd basically just admitted to burning a former friend's house down.

"I am bad," he stated simply, though he was quite irritated with her for making him state the obvious.

"No, you're not!" she gasped, "Why would you even say that?"

Right about now, Mrs. Cole would have been nodding approvingly or the other children would have begun citing his many offenses. However, Tom felt none of that would have been quite as infuriating as this. This was his life - how dare she judge him! Now he couldn't even admit to being bad without it being bad…

Tom sighed and tried to imagine he was just explaining all of this to one of the orphanage's bumbling five-year-olds.

"Because bad is just relative, Domino," he said coolly, "People judge in terms of what affects them. I'll let them hate me for now, and then one day, when I leave this place, I'll go somewhere people think I'm _good_."

Tom hadn't really meant for his explanation to come out that way. Truly, it sounded far too hopeful for his tastes. This Domino girl was having a bad effect on him…

"Well, _I_ think you're good, and you're already here," she replied sharply, finishing with a quite unnecessary _Hmph_.

Several long blinks later, Tom was still having trouble coming up with an adequate retort to _that_ atrocity of a statement. Truly, this Domino was a horrible influence. In times of doubt, however, he always resorted to his trusty fallback plan - hurling insults.

"You are such a freak."


	4. Bonehead Bullies and Friendly Freaks

IV

 **Bonehead Bullies and Friendly Freaks**

* * *

"Nuh-uh! My daddy _is_ coming to get me, Tom!" she cried in protest.

Domino spun around to face Tom, flinging loose soil from her hands in a wide arc. Tom glared up from the paper he was reading as a few specks of dirt landed on his pristine, grey trousers. Yes, she took wicked pleasure in the sight - the chance to annoy Tom made her task of digging for earthworms all the more satisfying.

"He thinks I'm still with my Aunt and Uncle," she explained, "When he gets back he'll find me, okay?"

Domino was rapidly realizing that she'd made a grave mistake in thinking a topic of conversation existed for which Tom Riddle wouldn't get competitive.

"Well, _my_ dad is coming to get me too," he said in a bored voice as he returned his gaze to the notebook page.

Tom was supposedly inspecting her work on the snake language, verifying the accuracy of each word. However, she had no idea how he intended on double-checking it, as they'd already determined that his mind automatically translated the hisses.

Domino was more than happy to take advantage of his distraction, however. He'd never mentioned his parents - in fact, he'd never volunteered much personal information at all.

"Really? Where's your dad?" she asked as she shook some of the dirt from her hands.

She _might_ have, perhaps, aimed the dirt spray at Tom, and he _might_ have, perhaps, just acquired a whole new layer of dirt to wipe from his exposed right side…

"Where's yours?" he asked, completely side-stepping her question as he swept a pile of dirt from his shoulder.

Domino sighed. Perhaps he'd require a bit of coaxing to open up. She certainly had no qualms discussing _her_ parents - they would _never_ have left her here.

"I don't know. He joined the Navy, so now he goes lots of places," she said simply.

At last, Tom lowered the "Secret Language of Snakes" list to his lap. Apparently, he'd found no issues with her translations. Instead, he turned to tracing a few cracks in the overgrown pavement with his finger, while somehow managing a gaze that was simultaneously thoughtful and arrogant.

"Yes, well, my dad gave me his name," he declared with a haughty air, "He probably has powers too."

"You haven't met him before?" she blurted out in surprise.

Tom immediately slapped his hand down hard on the rough pavement. With his shoulder, he pushed himself upright, shoving off of the fountain wall on which he'd been leaning.

"No! Stop being stupid, Domino," he snapped, "If he knew I was here, do you think I'd actually be _here_."

As he glared condescendingly at her dumbfounded expression, his mouth twisted into a bitter sneer. Really, with the amount of time Tom spent glaring, insulting, and just generally behaving crossly, Domino had come to learn that angry outbursts were the true "secret language" of Tom. Was that an angry-kinda-amused glare or an angry-kinda-sad glare or an angry-actually-quite-angry glare? Really, his superficial moodiness rarely told the whole story.

Nibbling on her lip, she mused aloud, "I guess not… Did your uncle drop you off too?"

"No."

"Then -"

"I was born here, okay?" he snapped again, his eyebrows twitching upwards and together ever-so-slightly.

Domino gasped, "You've lived here your whole life?"

"Ten miserable years," he spat.

Tom applying a derivative of the word 'misery' to something other than his personal aspirations for his enemies was truly a wonder to behold. Of course, as usual, Domino felt that his choice of wording was perfect and precise… Living at Wool's Orphanage was grim enough when you had already known something better, but she could only imagine the misery that accompanied being denied _anything_ better for your entire, young life. In retrospect now, his angst seemed perfectly understandable…

"Maybe that's how you got your powers," she exclaimed suddenly, perking up as she finally recognized the familiar pattern hidden in his tale.

"Pardon?"

"Superheroes always have something really bad happen, so then they can be really good," she explained, hoping he'd at least read a _few_ comics, "Like, Buck Rogers fought in the Great War and then got attacked by radioactive gas and then became a hero!"

Tom's brow furrowed, his eyes flitting about the flower beds as he pondered in silence. Finally, he threw himself back against the stone fountain with a huff and snatched up a twig from the grass.

"I haven't done anything like that," he said as he began twirling the twig in that cool swirly pattern he did, "And, all my mom did was die."

Domino crawled closer and leaned next to him. She watched in fascination as the sturdy twig he held wobbled and looped about his twirling fingers. Tom's brooding scowl lightened quite a bit as he caught sight of her entranced gaze.

"That's not _all_ she did," Domino said firmly, "She had you, didn't she?"

Tom's lips twitched to the side, his mouth half-smiling then half-frowning as if it had come alive on his face and it wasn't quite sure what to do with itself.

"I guess," he said at last, when his mouth had finally settled into a tight-lipped, neutral position, "She didn't stick around though."

Domino leaned her head back against the fountain rim and stared up at the pale-blue sky. Sunshine illuminated the courtyard vegetation to a brilliant, healthy green, and only a few white wisps of cloud marred the otherwise unblemished, blue expanse - it was really quite a lovely day.

"Maybe she couldn't…" Domino mused aloud, her brow furrowing as she squinted against the sun's glimmer, "She must've been feeling really, really sick to die like that. But, she _still_ made sure you were safe and had a name and everything first."

Tom laughed bitterly at her side, "If she was so great, she should've been able to save herself."

"Maybe she chose to save you instead," she said, perking up again as she thought of all the comics and radio shows that she'd enjoyed with Daddy, "That's what a superhero would do! What if she gave you your powers? What if she _had_ to die to give you her powers?"

Daddy had been quite good at mathematics and all that mechanic stuff. Since it was just the two of them, sometimes she'd get to watch him work, and then he'd teach her things about machines. Maybe magical powers traveled in the same way that the electrical powers in those machines did.

"You are so dumb," said Tom, who never really seemed to be impressed by anything.

Ugh! Domino had heard plenty about her name being dumb, but she had never been accused of being unintelligent - well, not until she met Tom. Now, he'd practically given her a new name… Thus, she could only conclude that he was bitter and jealous - and probably _umbrageous_ too, because he obviously couldn't keep up with her vocabulary.

After a firm _Hmph_ to show she meant business, Domino tutted, "My daddy says that's the kind of thing people say when they're _losing_."

"I do not _lose_ ," growled Tom with one of his actually-angry glares.

She sighed. Sometimes Tom reminded her of one of those fancy peacocks at the zoo, strutting about with all of their feathers puffed out. Good grief, even Buck Rogers got tricked by the Martians - and he had a rocket gun, a jet pack, and command of an American gang!

"No one wins _all_ the time," she said with a rather obligatory roll of the eyes.

"I will," he shot back instantly, jaw clenched as he hissed, "I'm not _no one_. Just look at all the things I can do."

Domino felt that his skills were somewhat besides the point. However, she'd come to realize that for some unfathomable reason, Tom thought he was bad.

 _And he says I'm dumb_ , she thought with an inward sigh and shake of the head.

Finally, with a soft smile, she said, "I know. You're special."

Tom's nose, mouth, and eyebrows all came alive this time, wiggling about in a confused, little dance. Finally, his features paused and held a dignified pose of reproach.

"Pardon?"

She scoffed, "I said you're special. Duh! Not everyone can be a superhero."

 _PLUNK!_

"Ow!" Domino cried out, warm tears quickly pooling to the brims of her eyelids.

A small pebble had bounced off of her head and come to rest a few inches from her knee. She followed Tom's furious gaze to the far edge of the stone fountain. Then, Tom and Domino peered over the cracked stone rim together at two older boys, who were currently hunched over and snickering gleefully.

The beak-nosed, sandy-haired boy on the left turned and shouted, "Oy! 'Ats for burning Billy's house down, you freak."

"You can prove nothing," Tom replied icily, every syllable delivered as sharp and distinct as jagged glass.

"C'mon Riddle," laughed the taller, oafish looking boy on the right, "we all know it was you."

"Then, perhaps you should learn to aim, Dustin," he hissed at the beaky blonde, before turning his malevolent glare back to the oaf, "I think you'll find that when _I_ throw things, like a stone or, say, a cigarette - I don't miss."

The two older boys shared a knowing glance, and two wide, crooked grins crept onto their respective faces. Beak-boy raised a hand he'd been holding below the fountain rim. He tossed a loose pebble into the air repeatedly and grinned as it clattered back down, ominously clinking against the other pebbles in his palm.

Then, with a wicked gleam in his eyes, he jabbed his chin once in Domino's direction and asked, "Who said we missed?"

For a long, terrible second the clinking of pebbles stopped, the jarring melody replaced by an unpleasant quiet.

 _PLUNK!_

"Ow!" Domino whined again as a piercing pain hit her right cheekbone.

Her cheek was promptly washed by a warm stream of tears.

"Ya think you're all big and bad, but your little, girly friend ain't," sneered beak-boy as the oaf bent over, chortling into the fountain.

 _Ding Ding Ding Ding_

The dinner bell rang and, despite the painful bumps forming on her head, Domino's mouth began to salivate like a well-trained dog. Mrs. Cole stood in the front doorway, ushering the orphans inside for their evening meal. Relief washed over Domino, headache and all - no one dared try anything with the matron around.

 _PLUNK!_

"Ow!" Domino wailed.

"And 'ats what you get for hanging around with the freak," beak-boy jeered, before he and the oaf practically skipped through the front door.

Domino's teary eyes sought the matron and found only a cold stare and pursed lips. After a single glance at Tom, Mrs. Cole simply turned and walked away.

* * *

Domino Dewey was slender enough to hide behind curtains during hide-and-seek and not be seen, light enough to jump on a bed and leave only the slightest dent, and short enough to nap in an armchair with her baby blanket. Unfortunately, she was also slender enough for shoves and punches to bruise right to the bone, light enough for bullies to heave and push and throw every which way, and short enough to prevent her from ever retrieving her stolen food or toys when held overhead.

It was only halfway through her first week of public friendship with Tom Riddle, and already her life had become near constant shunning and torment. What's worse was Tom had practically abandoned her as well - if not physically, then at least in spirit.

At mealtimes, bullies would lurk about the long picnic tables like vultures circling a carcass. Every time she sat next to Tom they'd pounce, taunting and tugging and grabbing at her food. And, the entire time, Tom would just sit there, silently glaring at his own plate or straight ahead at the wall. They never touched _him_ , but he never lifted a finger to help.

Furthermore, Mrs. Cole and the adults were useless. No matter how much Domino pleaded, the matron would just tut and say _Guess it's all part of the sacrifice!_ or _It comes with the territory!_ as she glared at Tom and sniffed.

One night, as Domino lay crying in her bunk, Amy Bishop finally took pity on her "new-ish" roommate. She offered Domino a raggedy doll to cuddle, as well as a few harsh words of advice.

"Tom isn't worth any of this, Domino. He's not even _nice_. Dustin and Bobby say you're actually kind of nice and stuff," she chirped cheerfully as she brushed her golden locks with a doll comb, "Just stop playing with the freak, and you can be one of us again."

"Well, I don't think Dustin and Bobby are very nice either," Domino spat between sobs, "No one here is nice."

"Oh, I'm not nice, huh?" Amy said, jumping up and prancing over, her hands on her hips.

She launched her bare feet into their third roommate's face as she leapt onto the lower mattress and reached for Domino's bunk. With a sharp tug, she snatched her doll away from Domino. Then, after jumping down, Amy tossed the doll back into her personal toy box and spun around, her nose upturned.

"Don't be a freak - no one likes a freak, Domino. If you play with the freak, you're going to be treated like a freak."

Domino promptly buried her face in her pillow and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

The noisy dining hall was filled with raucous chatter and the clinking of cheap utensils against cheap plates. It was only breakfast, but already several older boys and girls were eyeing Domino hungrily, eager to return for another helping of their favorite prey. Domino's eyes were still puffy and red after a night filled with sobs, and her weakness beckoned to the bullies, like fresh meat to a pack of wolves.

"Why aren't you doing anything about this, Tom?!" Domino whispered angrily to the boy at her side, "I thought we were friends!"

"And, whatever gave you that impression?" he answered coolly, not sparing a single glance in her direction.

"Are you kidding me? We're a team," she mumbled, her voice breaking, "What about our plans? And, and… the snake… and the training -"

"Keep it down, Domino," Tom snapped as he glared at one bully who seemed far too interested in his food, "Your crying only encourages them. And, I already told you - I don't have friends."

"But, but, you're a superhero!" stammered Domino, her lower lip trembling as she fought back more tears, "You have powers… you're supposed to stop bad people!"

"I fail to see how any of this," he said, glaring around at Domino's personal pack of vultures, "is my problem."

Tom was neatly slicing and ordering the already-meager meal portions into even smaller parts. Domino scowled at the mean, little boy's hand, wishing more than ever that she possessed his powers. Then, she would burn that fork in his hand and _force_ him to turn around and look at her.

"You're a coward, Tom Riddle," she spat, her voice warbling with the pain of an incoming sob.

Tom's fork abruptly dropped and clattered against his plate. Finally, he had stopped his staring around the room.

"Watch it, Domino," he hissed, trapping her in his steely gaze, "Last I checked, you're running rather short on friends."

Domino sniffed, "You just said I wasn't your friend, _Tom_!"

With an exaggerated sigh, Tom sat back and steepled his hands over his plate. His face wore a rather bored expression.

Slowly he asked, "And, what exactly are you expecting me to do?"

Domino stared at her empty plate. She had barely eaten half of it - the bullies had been too quick.

"I don't know! They're your powers!" she whined in desperation, "You've obviously been taking care of yourself…"

"Why are you still here?" he asked suddenly.

"What?"

Tom sighed, before explaining, "I'm sure it's clear to you by now that they're harassing you because of me. So, why are you still here?"

Domino furrowed her brow and clarified, "You mean, why am I still your friend?"

"Yes, Domino," he sighed again, before adding bitterly, "The simple solution to this whole problem is for you to denounce me and go return to your merry, little friends."

"They're not my friends!" she growled immediately.

"Oh?"

"No! I'm not friends with bullies," Domino declared, fixing Tom with a look of stubborn determination, "You're my friend, Tom, and you're just going to have to deal with it."

* * *

This bullying situation had become a completely unnecessary and unacceptable inconvenience. Firstly, Tom had already banned Domino from visiting his pet snake - it was simply too much of a risk with her trailing bullies everywhere she went. Secondly, all those tears of hers were muddying up his secret list pages. Thirdly, his schedule was already plenty full with all of their training and scheming - there was simply no room for therapy sessions. Just the other day she'd even attempted a hug… Indeed, something had to be done.

Of course, Tom didn't buy the girl's "friendship" story for an instant. No, she was cruelly manipulating him, he was cruelly manipulating her, and that was just how life worked. However, these idiotic bullies were now standing in the way of their mutual manipulations - and _no one_ interfered with Tom Riddle's plans and manipulations.

Tom narrowed his eyes, furrowed his brow, and focused on the bully ringleader, Dustin. However, after a full ten seconds of his strained glaring, the bully cohort continued their rowdy approach. Nothing had happened - again.

He'd been trying all week, seething and glaring and fuming, but his powers just weren't working - it had to be Domino's fault. Tom only experienced these issues after Domino showed up and instituted those ridiculous training sessions. Sure, his powers had been difficult to predict and control before, but they'd always kicked in when he was in danger. Now, thanks to Domino, he'd been forced to sit and watch as the likes of Dustin and Dennis and Bobby pushed his… follower around.

Ugh, Dustin, that beak-nosed, bird-brained _idiot,_ was at it again!

"Domino! That sounds like a name for a dog, not an itty-bitty girl. Come here, Domino! Come here, girl! Woof woof!"

All around the courtyard people started woofing as Dustin shoved Domino onto the ground. Tom's follower had been resisting admirably, but as she skid across the pavement, red scrapes ripped along her palms, and a steady stream of her tears descended at last.

She was just so dumb! Any smart person would've left. Any reasonable person would've just renounced the "freak." Where was her survival instinct? Why did she have to be so _weak_?

"Freak! Freak! Freak! Freak!" the completely unimaginative bullies had begun to chant.

Tom's anger was boiling over, something dark and hot and ugly bubbling beneath his skin. All of his life people had been taking. All of his life people had been casting him aside. And, if they thought they could take the one stupid, weak, little, freak that hadn't left yet, well… Tom Riddle was going to "deal with it."

A beautiful symphony of screams erupted from Dustin and his collaborators. Their warbling wails resonated through the courtyard in harmony, like the perfect hum of several well-oiled bows grating against their respective violin strings. Tom was their conductor, plucking at his instruments' pathetic nerves, guiding them with the energetic thrum of his secret power.

Yes, he was vaguely aware of the five boys' bodies contorting before him, hopelessly scraping their limbs along the rough cement as they writhed in agony. However, he didn't allow his impromptu concerto to draw to close until he felt himself wrapped in a warm, suffocating, repulsive embrace.

Much too soon, the bullies' screams quieted, replaced by a chorus of frantic panting. Pure terror was etched across each and every face as the panicked boys scrambled away from Tom. Finally, this neutered wolf pack turned and fled, their metaphorical tails drooping between their legs.

Of course, as soon as one threat was effectively dealt with, a far more terrifying menace presented itself…

Tom stood paralyzed, rigid as a board. Domino's arms were wrapping his torso tightly, constricting him with such a powerful grip that it was sure to make the grass snake jealous.

"Domino! Release me!" Tom gasped.

But, the sniffling girl promptly ignored him, as well as the pressure on her scraped-up palms, and nuzzled in closer. His neck and cheek were now cool and wet where Domino's teary face had wiped along his skin.

"Tom! You saved me!" she murmured against his shoulder, praise pouring into every note, "See, you _are_ a superhero!"


	5. Crossing Lines and Vicious Décor

_+- Author's Foreword -+_

 _HISTORICAL NOTE: If the firsthand accounts from orphans in this time period have proven anything to me, it's that these kids were really tough. It may seem strange that the bullies in this story are so resilient, but these orphanage environments were comparable to military barracks or prisons, with rampant stealing and kids even shanking each other. Sadly, the only real complaint these tough people give in their accounts is the lack of affectionate human interaction and physical contact._

 _So, with that in mind, it may be obvious, but I'd also like to point out that I'm writing an imperfect narrator. Someone might say "religion is false" or "that person is a loser," but it's that specific character's perspective (and not mine) - they could be wrong, in denial, or ready to change their mind later._

* * *

V

 **Crossing Lines and Vicious Décor**

* * *

"You are not to cross this line," Tom commanded, "You are not to reach across this line for any reason - do you understand?"

Domino sighed, "Hugs are good, Tom. You're just being ridiculous."

The vibrant safety-hazard that was Tom and Domino's special spot had recently been remodeled into an orderly grid of stick-lined squares and dirt-drawn lines. Tom sat cross-legged on the edge of a 5x5 square, gently stroking his pregnant snake's scales.

In a clipped tone, which he realized much-too-late was a rather perfect imitation of Mrs. Cole, he stated clearly, "How many times must I explain this to you, Domino? I am never ridiculous."

"So, then… Are you Riddle-cous?" she quipped, before cackling like a maniac at her own joke.

She was not the least bit funny. Not at all.

"Domino, it is never too late for me to increase this five foot radius…" he said.

Scowling playfully, Domino inched another square closer, while she teased, "Whatever. You _know_ it was funny… Also, if you hated the hug _so_ much, why are you still going on about it, huh?"

"Firstly, I believe you're vastly underestimating my capacity to hate," Tom said, eyeing Domino's nearing form warily, "Secondly, I must take these measures to ensure that it never happens again. Do you hear me? Never. Again."

 _PLOP!_

Domino's slow crawl had ceased as she lobbed a crumpled wad of notebook paper the remaining distance to Tom's lap. Tom snatched up the paper wad and held it to one side of his resolute stare.

"No, Domino!" Tom scolded, "You are not allowed to throw anything over the line either. Must I write down my mandates in yet another list?"

She rolled her eyes and laughed, "Wow, Tom. You're acting as if I actually _want_ to hug you again."

"Of course, you do," he answered curtly, a mocking smirk creeping onto his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, "Am I not your hero? If I am correct - and, of course, I am - I believe hero worship comes with compulsory adoration and shows of affection."

Domino rolled her eyes and sighed, "I just _like_ you, Tom - I don't _worship_ you."

She was so obviously in denial.

"Rationalize it however you must," he drawled, while unwrapping and smoothing the crumpled paper she'd thrown.

Ugh, how dare she waste his limited resources? Clearly, she didn't understand that such things would be rare and valuable commodities in the years they'd spend together at Wool's Prison.

However, as he glanced down at the wrinkled sheet of paper, he realized it was not, in fact, empty but already marred by several colorful wax streaks, courtesy of Domino's crayons.

"What is _this_?" he demanded.

Right before his eyes, an angry-looking stick-boy was being assaulted by a cheery-looking stick-girl. Tears flew from her eyes, just as a ridiculous hat flew off of the stick-boy's head. One large, bright-green snake and a long line of wiggly, miniature ones cheered on from the sidelines. What a horrific scene! Stick-boy was doomed - his attackers had cut off all possible routes of escape.

"You can't stop me from hugging you on paper, Tom," she giggled, her eyebrows wiggling as she accompanied her threatening crayon drawing with a cruel taunt, "Also, technically that drawing touched my hands, and now you're touching it, so now you're touching me. So… yeah."

Tom Riddle dropped it like it was hot.

Eyes narrowing into a suspicious glare, he deadpanned, "Why is there a hat?"

"Because you're being a superhero, so you need to look like one!" Domino explained insistently, "The Shadow always wears a fedora and a cloak like that. I would've added the scarf too, but it would've covered up the angry frown - and, I wanted it to be obvious that it was you."

Tom promptly did a scowling impression of his likeness. Truly, the fedora was much too pointy - it made him look more like some ungodly witch than a radio-show star.

"So, anyways!" his tiny tormentor continued, "I think we should test your snake speech some more."

Tom stuffed the horrific drawing away in his pocket, before coolly addressing Domino's latest scheme, "Oh? And what would you have me do?"

Domino held up one hand and began counting the various stages of her plan on her weak, little fingers as she said, "First, let's see if you can speak it without _looking_ at the snake. Then, we can see if you can speak it without _listening_. And then, we can see if you can speak it when talking just to me."

Times like these, Domino almost made up for her constant babbling and unwanted shows of affection - emphasis on almost. She was rather logical and systematic in her study of his many gifts. Tom, of course, could've done it all on his own, but it was refreshing to have an ambitious minion saving him so much time and effort.

"Very well," he replied, though it sounded much too agreeable for his tastes, so he added, "Although, your pronunciation of the hisses is abominable. So, the last one is hardly a fair test."

Domino just wrinkled her nose, leapt forward another square, and hissed, grinning mischievously, "Whatever, Tom. Don't make me hug you!"

Tom immediately rescinded all thought of Domino being tolerable - this girl was _purest evil_.

* * *

Amy Benson was humming rather off-key as she handed Domino yet another plate. She then returned to tugging at a few messy stitches on Domino's latest sewing disaster, while Domino scrubbed the dirty plate clean.

Domino had to hand it to Amy - her prissy roommate certainly hadn't stepped in to stop the bullies, but she hadn't really stopped helping Domino because of them either. Gregarious, effeminate, and hopelessly superficial, Amy was practically the polar opposite of Domino - right down to the pretty, pink bows and ribbons she'd stolen from her own dolls. And yet, the two girls had somehow managed to come to an understanding.

With only a father to teach her boyish things like math and science and comic books, Domino was positively hopeless at all the sewing and laundry and other domestic chores she was expected to do while proving herself an "acceptable lady." Amy, on the other hand, had no interest in getting her hands dirty or measuring and mixing the yeast and dough and other cooking ingredients properly. Thus, the roommates had developed a rather efficient partnership, swapping chores to each benefit from the other's superior skills.

"All done," Amy declared, handing over Domino's now acceptably-embroidered sewing ring.

"I'm finished with the plates too," said Domino, before the two girls padded out of the kitchen, heading for the stairs.

Amy and Domino paused at the bottom of the staircase. The boys' crafting or "vocational skills" rooms were located on the opposite side of the ground floor, and it appeared that one of their sessions had just finished. A rather rowdy band of boys was mingling at the far end of the hallway, but a familiar figure was approaching all by his lonesome.

"G-gotta go," Amy stammered, while nervously tugging on one of her hair ribbons.

Strangely, Amy had a sort of "built-in" ten-foot-radius agreement with Tom. Whenever she spotted him closing in, she'd scatter, skittering out of eyesight and usually out of the immediate area. Domino noted that today was no different as Amy dashed up the stairs, presumably escaping to their shared room.

"Ah, and there goes the loudmouth. It would appear that I have saved you, yet again! Really, Domino, at this rate you'll be indebted to me for life," drawled a very familiar, very smug voice.

"She's not _that_ bad," sighed Domino as Tom took Amy's former spot by the stairs.

"Yes, well, perhaps I've forgotten -" he said, leaning against the stairwell banister and feigning confusion, "where was she, when all those bullies were woofing and pushing you around?"

Domino sighed again, "Not everything is a competition, Tom."

Tom's voice abruptly switched to a rather-good imitation of Domino's American accent as he mocked, "That sounds like the sort of thing people say when they're _losing_."

Before Domino could try her hand at an imitation of Tom's pompous drawl, the rowdy band of boys clamored over to join them at the foot of the staircase. All of her least-favorite boys were among the group - the beak-boy, Dustin, the oaf, Bobby, and Amy's pseudo-boyfriend, Dennis Bishop.

"Well, if it isn't Dominos and Checkers," boomed Dennis in that deep voice of his, the "dreamy" one that Amy would never shut up about.

Unlike the other boys, Dennis had never done more than swipe a few loaves of bread at mealtimes. Domino knew she could handle him.

Thus, she promptly corrected the boy, cheerfully chirping, "Actually, I think he's more like _Chess_ \- it's smarter."

Dennis' jaw hung loose, a rather confused expression sweeping over his features as he likely searched for an adequate retort. Tom was quick to the punch as always.

"Don't talk to them, Domino - the mental effort will damage their brains," he drawled, before smiling wickedly at Dennis and adding, "Actually - do talk to them."

Bobby the Oaf must have sensed Dennis' resolve was floundering, for he swiftly came to the gaping boy's rescue. Bobby stepped forward, brushing aside some of his lank, moptop bangs, while he carefully tucked the book he always carried beneath one sweaty armpit.

"Freaky Tom Riddle thinks he's _so_ smart," sneered Bobby, clearly having learned very little from Tom's recent power demonstration.

Boys were so stupid.

"He _is_ smart," snapped Domino, turning her nose up with enough sass to make even Amy Benson proud.

"Nobody asked you, dumb-ino," growled Dennis as he finally recovered from his stupor.

Domino's newly-coined nickname was prompting a few rounds of snickers from the thuggish gang, and Tom was tensing at her side, most likely eager for a repeat of last week's victory. However, Domino had found that whole bully-beating experience far less enjoyable than Tom apparently did. She quickly looped her arm through Tom's and began tugging the immediately-paralyzed boy towards the stairs.

It was inevitable that every superhero would have a weakness. The Shadow's nemesis was Shiwan Khan, a gold-obsessed, hypnotic supervillain. Tom's nemesis was hugs - and, really, any form of affectionate physical contact.

"Suit yourself, Domino," Bobby sneered again, glancing down at their linked arms with an expression of utter disgust and disappointment.

Bobby withdrew the thick book from beneath his arm and shook it at Domino while growling, "One day, this freak's gonna use his demon magic on you too. When that day comes, you can't say you didn't have your chance."

With a defiant _Hmph_ , Domino dragged the rather-rigid, somewhat-dazed Tom Riddle up the stairs.

As soon as they'd reached the fourth floor and were very much out of sight of the older boys, Tom shoved her arm away and began his bossing.

"What did I tell you, Domino? Does this look like like five feet to you?" he snarled, pointing to the single stone block that currently separated them.

Domino glanced down, before bringing a hand to her chin and jesting, "Hmm… I suppose it's all _relative_ , isn't it? Just like your 'good' and 'bad'... I bet I could fit five _baby feet_ in this space."

"You are so dumb," he scoffed, though the corners of his lips were twitching upwards towards a smile.

Everyone seemed to be calling her dumb today, but somehow it just didn't carry the same weight when Tom said it. His true "secret language" was angry temper-tantrums after all, and when you're dealing with a kid whose idea of fun is burning houses, an almost-smiling half-insult seems downright pleasant.

Thus, Domino soon found herself skipping down the western half of the fourth floor hallway, rather cheerfully reminiscing about her own clever quips.

She'd passed the lavatories, which resided in the midpoint of the long hall, and was only a few skips into the western wing when Tom called out from behind.

"Wait! Where are you going?" he shouted, his smooth voice traveling clearly down the hall as he took a few brisk steps towards her.

Domino thought it was rather obvious - the western half of the fourth floor was for boys ages eight to ten, and she certainly wasn't going looking for one of the younger bullies-in-training.

She explained, "I thought maybe we could go play in your room for once."

"My room?" he parroted, as perplexed as if she'd just poorly attempted hissing in Snake rather than spoken simple English, "What on Earth would we do in there?"

"I don't know?" she replied, throwing her arms up in exasperation, "I've shown you my things already. Maybe, you can show me your stuff now."

 _Really. Why do I always have to come up with all the ideas?_ Domino inwardly groaned.

"No," Tom said firmly as he advanced to her side, his hand-me-down oxford shoes snapping against the stone floor, "My room is mine and mine alone."

Domino gasped, "No fair! You get the whole room to yourself?"

"Indeed," he answered, drawing closer to her side, smirking, and crossing his arms, "... jealous?"

"Of course, I'm jealous! I have to squeeze onto that rickety bunk every night… Sometimes I even have nightmares that it'll collapse and squash Julie," she said with a shudder.

Tom cocked an elegant eyebrow, looking rather impressed for once, though Domino had absolutely no idea what was so impressive about a rickety bunk.

"Well, that would certainly be _one way_ of improving your living situation," he said seriously.

"Tom!" she gasped again, "That's not funny. Julie is nice, okay?"

"They always seem nice in the beginning," he deadpanned.

"Whatever. Let's go," Domino snapped, grinning when she saw Tom's indignant expression.

Good. It was time someone ordered _him_ around for a change.

Turning swiftly on her heel, she began strutting deeper into the boys' western wing, doing her best imitation of a puffy-chested peacock. Several shouts of _Domino!_ issued down the hallway, Tom's protests building in intensity, evolving into angry growls as she drew ever closer to his bedroom door. Before long, the leather soles of his oxfords were once again slapping against stone as he chased her down the hall. She squealed and giggled as she finally threw open his door. She nearly managed to close it too, but he slammed against the wood with surprising strength.

"Open this door at once!" he grunted, and Domino immediately complied, allowing him to stumble awkwardly into his own room.

Domino had always found games like Hide-and-Seek and Tag to be quite fun, but clearly Tom didn't share her enthusiasm… She counted one angry scowl, two clenched fists, and one menacing glare - yes, Tom was back to fuming.

It was too late, however. Domino had learned his greatest weakness, and now it was only too easy to keep him satisfied. He had a rather large ego - you'd probably have to be hypnotized by Shiwan Khan to miss it.

"Wow, Tom! I didn't realize you were so strong!" she gasped, her eyes widening as she shook her head in admiration, "Really, there was no _way_ I could've held that door any longer."

Tom's eyebrows rose and fell a few times as he fought to maintain his scowl. Finally, he released an aggravated grunt, as well as his clenched fists.

Then, in his remarkably neutral tone, wearing his remarkably neutral mask, he stated, "Domino, your manipulations are entirely transparent."

"But, they're true," she chirped, giving a small shrug as Tom raised an eyebrow, "I just can't help it that I look guilty all the time."

"Very well," he said, pulling a hard, wooden chair to his bedside, and then gracefully lowering himself onto his rather-thin mattress, "I suppose you've already successfully invaded, so… welcome to my room."

Sometimes Domino wished the BBC could start an up-to-the-minute Tom weather forecast, for his moods truly went from hot to cold and stormy to sunny _so_ fast. Although, she supposed the orphanage didn't have a television or radio to tune in anyway… Well. At least, sometimes his moody surprises were pleasant - like him behaving civilly enough to bring her a chair even after he hadn't gotten his way.

Domino grasped the back of the plain, wooden chair, preparing to sit down, but Tom promptly stretched his legs out and casually dropped his feet into the seat.

"By all means, make yourself at home," he said pleasantly.

Domino scowled, but decided to take this opportunity to stand and look around his room. Of course, there wasn't much room to see, and there wasn't much room to move. She simply turned in a slow circle, as there wasn't space to take more than one step in any given direction. The standard iron bed frame, the standard old wardrobe, and a chair - his room looked exactly the same as every other, just with one less bed and one more chair.

"So, how come you get this whole room to yourself?" she asked.

Tom folded his hands in his lap and continued in his tone of false pleasantness, "Because, Mrs. Cole realized it was to everyone's benefit that I be allowed special privileges."

Domino could only imagine what _that_ meant. If he was telekinetically throwing cigarettes around just for "fun," he must have been an absolute nightmare to room with.

"Doesn't it get kind of scary at night though?" Domino asked, continuing her pondering aloud, "It seems like it'd be kind of creepy sleeping here all by yourself…"

He answered her question with another question, whispering in a cold, dangerous tone that one would typically reserve for threats, "What, are you afraid of the dark, Domino?"

Shivering just a bit from thoughts of the cold and the dark, Domino answered truthfully, "Just a little… Aren't you?"

"No," he replied curtly, before hunching over and drumming his long fingers against the iron bed frame, "No, I'm not afraid of anything."

"Oh yeah?" Domino scoffed, "You seemed pretty afraid that Mrs. Cole would kill the snake!"

Tom's fists immediately clenched, his fingernails screeching against the metal frame as he squeezed.

"That was _concern_ , Domino," he huffed, before sliding back, leaning against the wall, and adding coolly, "We can speak of this again when you've finally improved your vocabulary."

Domino sighed. The orphanage beds were quite small but still wide enough to contain most of a 10-year-old boy's legs when sitting widthwise. Thus, she seized her chance to pull the chair out from under his feet, ignoring his protests as she plopped down into the freed seat with a satisfied grin.

"So, who roomed in here with you before?" she asked cheerfully, while she propped her feet against the iron bedframe.

"Billy Stubbs," he said quietly, shooting a glare in her direction that was fit to kill.

"Oh."

"Ah, yes. Poor, little Billy!" he exclaimed, perking up into a state of mock concern, "It just wouldn't be _good_ to expose any other children to my _evil_ , now would it?"

"They're all just confused, Tom," she sighed, before babbling her way through a defense of their confusion, "They don't understand that you have powers because you're a super _hero_. I mean, it's really hard to tell sometimes… The Shadow can cloud people's minds and Shiwan Khan can hypnotize them, but one's a hero and one's a villain. So, powers are really just super-confusing in general."

Tom sneered, "As I've said, good and evil are relative - power is not."

"Yeah, I guess…" she muttered, suddenly feeling very claustrophobic in this dull, plaster-white cube of a room.

London had been dreary and overcast of late, and though sunlight filtered in through the room's small window, the light was rather pale and cool and lifeless. As Domino glanced from the stone-grey floor to the sandy-brown wardrobe to the bleak, white walls, she realized there wasn't a single speck of vibrant color to be seen. Even Tom's eyes, which sometimes appeared blue or green in the right lighting, had been reduced to a somber grey.

Nibbling on her lip, Domino shifted in the uncomfortably-hard chair and exclaimed suddenly, "I know! Let's do some coloring today. You have all this space, so we might as well decorate."

Tom's eyes widened slightly, and if it had been anyone else, Domino might have pegged the emotion as fear or even horror. Of course, that couldn't _possibly_ be the case, because Tom said he wasn't afraid of anything - and, of course, Tom Riddle would _never_ lie.

Domino stifled a little laugh as Tom said, "I am _not_ letting you turn my sanctuary into some frou-frou girl's room."

"Frou-frou? Wow, that's some nice vocabulary there, Tom…" she teased, "Don't worry, I'll draw you some cool stuff, like dragons and snakes."

"Fine. But, I want none of those _baby_ snakes drawn - my minions must all be vicious predators," he said in complete seriousness.

Domino rolled her eyes. She then jumped up from the hard chair and started stretching her sore posterior as she edged towards the door. After pulling open the door, she paused in the doorway with her hand on the knob.

Just before the door slammed shut, she said, "Don't worry, Tom - I'll draw the kittens _especially_ vicious."

* * *

Tom had to admit that his room's new décor was coming along nicely. Waxy tongues of bright-orange and deep-red flames licked at one corner of the room, encased by a fancy, dark-green fireplace. Opposite the bed, mountains and evergreen trees rose around a shallow lake, where various vicious creatures were made to stand guard over his new domain.

Tom had begrudgingly allowed his babbling artist a cute deer or two, as well. He'd learned it was best to keep the girl appeased, to reward his sidekick's loyalty from time to time. Also… Tom always took care of what was _his_ , and his new crayon dragons and snakes would certainly need some crayon prey to eat - not that he'd tell the frou-frou girl that.

"You know what day it is, Tom?" hummed Domino as she scribbled scales and such on a big, blue dragon.

Tom had removed his shoes and pulled up his chair to sit beside the colorful fireplace. Domino had teased that he shouldn't sit so close, for his socks might catch fire and burn another house down. Of course, Tom had promptly directed her to return to her task and leave the witty commentary to the resident hero. Truly, the girl was not funny, not in the least - neither were her attempted hugs.

"Today is July the Fourth," Tom said disinterestedly, skillfully hiding his immediate suspicions of a trap.

Just as he'd feared, Domino soon revealed an ulterior motive. She slid away from the wall, presenting what the little con-artist had been so studiously working on, right under his nose. How had he not foreseen this? The terms of their coloring deal had been much too simple, stipulating only, one, no frou-frou, and, two, no baby creatures. Yes, this was quite disturbing proof that Tom Riddle was losing his edge - _good grief_ , that girl was a bad influence!

Now blemishing his otherwise-majestic wall was a miniature stick-girl, riding _his_ dragon's back and brandishing a pole with the stars and stripes of an American flag. How dare Stick-girl lay claim on his dominion!

"Yeah!" cheered Domino, taunting him evilly while she bounced on her knees, "It's the day my country kicked your country's _butt_!"

Tom responded in a bored yet enviously-smooth voice, "And yet, now you are here… speaking crudely of ' _butts_.'"

He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him rattled in the wake of her surprise attack. No, Tom was a master at projecting a cool and unaffected demeanor under any circumstances - devious, little Domino could just watch and learn. Steepling his hands, Tom subtly smirked as he returned his cool gaze to his stationary, crayon fire.

The little loser pouted, crossing her arms and wrinkling her nose as she said, "That's besides the point. The point is you said you never lose."

Tom had to admire her ingenuity. She found a way to undermine him and his agenda at every turn, poking holes in his arguments, keeping him on his toes with all the clever compliments and the… hugs. Indeed, if he wasn't careful, he'd soon be deposed - and, Tom Riddle was no one's sidekick.

"I can hardly be held responsible for the old British Empire's mismanagement of a rebellion," Tom drawled as he strode over to the wall, ready to assess the damage to his dominion up close.

Of course, only a single stride was required for him to reach said wall, as Wool's Prison provided rather cramped accommodations to its inmates. Tom resolved that one day his dominion would be at least ten times as spacious.

"Mismanagement?" repeated Domino, demonstrating her ignorance yet again.

 _And, this is why I'm the hero and you're the sidekick,_ he thought as he kneeled in front of a red dragon, selected some crayons, and began adding his own superior drawing to the wall mural.

"Indeed. Under my reign, dissent would never reach the point of resistance," he declared proudly.

Domino leaned over to watch him work, scowling as she no doubt discovered that Tom had bested her yet again. Indeed, it must have been difficult for Domino, forced to decide each day anew which of Tom's many skills deserved her rapt attention and admiration…

With a flourish, Tom put the finishing touches on Stick-boy's victory scene. Now, Stick-girl's blue dragon was dwarfed by Stick-boy's armored red. Overhead, a British flag was waving as a beacon in the sky, a symbol to strike fear in all of Stick-boy's enemies. Meanwhile, the red dragon clawed at the blue dragon's underside and spit snaking flames all over its stupid, blue face - oh, and Stick-boy also shot it with a rocket gun, just for good measure. Stick-boy would take no chances.

"Your reign?" Domino scoffed, the audacious girl daring to roll her eyes at his artwork, "What, are you going to be the King of England now?"

"I'm already a hero - is that not the next logical step?" he said with a smirk, before twirling the crayon around in his hand and musing aloud, "But, no, not a king. I want nothing so… common."

She blinked dumbly, before replying, "I don't think you understand what a hero is, Tom."

He settled into a cross-legged position and sighed, "A subjective label applied to whatever well-known figure has benefited the current power structure lately?"

And then, Domino _giggled_. Her giggle was like a warning bell in his ears, an omen of terrible things to come, things like hugs and… more giggles. As she crawled closer and closer, Tom panicked as a grave realization finally hit him - his entire room barely had five feet of free space to spare. Once again, the five-foot radius had been breached, his security measures thwarted! She was now sitting mere inches away from him in a demonstrative show of force.

"You're so silly," she giggled again.

Domino's casual manner of addressing him was right next to 'personal space' on his growing secret list of girl problems. First, she had hugged him - and, what an abhorrent experience _that_ had been. Then, she invited herself into his room, joked of butts, and permanently inserted herself on his wall. At this rate, they'd be holding hands and calling each other vile pet names by Christmas!

"For the last time," Tom snapped, "I am _not_ silly."

"Well, you _are_ confused. I'm not a power structure, and I don't care about a bunch of benefits," she said in an obnoxiously-kind tone, "I'll always remember that my friend was there for me when I needed him. And, it won't matter what he's done lately - I'll always feel good about it. That's all there is to it, Tom."

Something was amiss. Tom's survival instincts had immediately kicked in - or, perhaps, it was just that warm, sickly pang that Domino's words had left in his chest cavity. His eyes flitted about the area as he sought out some indication, some warning of the impending attack.

There it was - a soft, tickling sensation was now traveling across his shoulders as Domino's fingers covertly crept along his back, fingertips grazing the thin fabric of his white uniform shirt. Thankfully, she hadn't been covert enough, and he'd managed to detect the clandestine hand in time. Just before the devious girl could pounce, snaring him in another one of those _disgusting_ hugs, he whirled around and swat her arm aside.

Armed with a Celestial Blue crayon, he then snapped, "Behind the line, Domino!"

 _+- Closing Thoughts -+_

 _So, you may have noticed a rather ridiculous sentence in this chapter (probably several)... Please put down the pitchforks! I tried to be serious - Siriusly - but then, it felt like my entire, brief fanfic life had led up to the moment that I finally got to write "Tom Riddle dropped it like it was hot" in a semi-serious sentence. Perhaps, one day I'll change it, but for now, there it is, in all of its Riddle-cous glory._

 _~*~ As always, thanks for reading (and possibly reviewing)! ^_^ ~*~_


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